239 Days
by k2323
Summary: Eight Months. 239 Days. A lot can change in eight months. Boys become men. Wars are fought. Lives are changed. Set between Seasons 2 and 3. To my critics: I have grown as a person and a writer. Please give me a chance. Currently in Part 1: The Hunting Grounds.
1. Day 1

**Author's Notes: I killed my best story for you people! ***Ahem*

Hi. I'm Kaleb. About two years ago, I set out to write **the greatest Walking Dead fanfic ever! **I failed. I don't want to talk about it. There were some inappropriate and unnecessary scenes, pairings, etc. in the story. But I have grown as a person and as a writer and now want to write **the greatest Walking Dead fanfic ever! **I hope my fans will find the changes I make to be worthy of reading and I hope my critics give me another chance. So, without further delay, here is my story: 239 Days. The story is set in the eight months between Seasons 2 and 3.

**A Walking Dead Fanfic: 239 Days On The Road**

**Part I: The Hunting Grounds**

**Day 1**

**A Long Winter**

Last week had been hell.

Walkers had invaded Hershel Greene's farm, forcing the rag-tag group of survivors around whom our story revolves into their vehicles and out onto the road. Sophia was dead. Shane was dead. Andrea was long gone - missing and probably dead. That left only ten. Ten survivors, up against an army of the undead - and who knows what else. In the past, this group had succumbed to the natural laws of anarchy. With no civilization to guide them, no government to rule them, no laws to bind them, the group had made decisions in a democratic sort of way. On the Greene farm, democracy gave way to mob rule and as a result, five good people had died. Five friends. Five family members. Five survivors, lost in the war against the Walkers.

No more.

Last week, Rick Grimes laid down the law. From now on, he would be running the show. He had made the decision that the group was going to head south, towards Fort Benning. Anyone who had a problem with Rick Grimes could leave, try to survive on their own. As if that was possible in today's world.

This week was quiet. The days were filled with quiet car rides, gas station stops. Find what supplies you can, fill up the car with gas, and get back in the car and ride on.

Our story begins on one such day. The group was traveling in their four-vehicle-caravan, as they typically did during the day (and sometimes at night as well), still well on their way towards Fort Benning. Normally, getting from Atlanta to Fort Benning would have been a simple trip of about two hours. With all the walkers, though, taking the interstate would be suicide. So, for days now, they'd been traveling the back roads, stopping in every little town to rest up for a few days. It couldn't be avoided with a pregnant woman in the group.

It was December – the 21st, according to Glenn, who had taken over such responsibilities since the very unfortunate death of Dale. On this particular day, as the group ran along some abandoned back country road, T-Dog led the caravan, driving his newly acquired Dodge Ram. Rick sat shotgun, his eyes peeled on the road ahead. Occasionally, he would speak, but usually only to give T-Dog some sort of direction. Slow down, turn here, stop at the gas station. Those were the words exchanged in this vehicle, which suited both men just fine. Carl, on the other hand, miserably spent his time stretched out in the back seat of the truck, waiting for something interesting to happen, careful to keep his mouth shut.

Behind T-Dog, there was the Chevy Suburban, which Hershel had been entrusted by Rick to drive. Lori, Beth, and Carol were Hershel's passengers. Lori and Carol mostly talked to themselves, and despite Hershel's attempts to communicate with his daughter, Beth didn't really feel like speaking most of the time, so she kept her eyes on the road, dreaming of a world long gone. Dreaming of Jimmy and her mother and the life she had been given, only to have had it taken away by the cruelty of the world they now lived in. Hershel had finally supplied her with a notebook and a pen which he'd found at the last stop, and so she now had an outlet for her inner-thoughts, and spent much of her time drawing as well.

Daryl followed beside Hershel, not exactly behind, just in case he needed to take the lead with his rather speedy motorcycle. Occasionally, Rick would motion for Daryl to drive ahead and scout out a road nearby or check for Walkers around a curve. Daryl could not afford to zone out or to ride in a car and gossip. Rick had started to trust Daryl. After all, Daryl was sort of the knight of the group. He was arguably among the best fighters present and he had proved his usefulness. His importance could not be understated.

Glenn had the wheel of the Hyundai, firmly behind the rest of the crowd, and he was riding along with Maggie. Maggie, the woman he found himself falling in love with. Out of all the vehicles in this caravan, their vehicle represented hope. It represented a possible future, and Glenn knew that had to mean something. He didn't know what it meant exactly. But he knew it meant something. And he knew that Maggie was the only bright part of his day, the only sunshine on this dark, winter day.

Glenn and Maggie were holding hands as he drove along calmly, his eyes peeled on the road ahead.

Glenn's eyes squinted a bit as he glanced up into the distance.

"Is that a car?" he asked Maggie quietly.

"I... I think so."

It was hard to see from the rear of the group.

"I swore I just saw it move."

"I think you're seeing things," Maggie countered playfully. "Too much time in the sun."

"Hah!" Glenn replied, "I wish we could get some time in the sun."

Glenn's eyes were still fixed on the parked car up ahead, taking up one lane, parked horizontally across the lane. They were quickly getting closer to the car, and Glenn realized that Daryl needed to get over and take up the space between his vehicle and Hershel's. Lightly tapping his breaks, he let Daryl slide in front of him as they kept getting closer.

"I think it's an Acura," Glenn theorized.

"I always wanted an Acura," Maggie replied.

"I drove one back in my pizza delivering days."

A beat.

"Glenn," Maggie demanded, urgency in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"I swear I just saw someone move in that car."

"Now you're the one being ridiculous."

"No, s-"

_**SCREEEEECCHHHH**_

As the Dodge Ram and the Chevy road past the apparently abandoned car, it revved to life, it's driver becoming painfully visible as the man inside slid up from the seat he'd been leaning back in. The Acura driver floored the gas, and an alarmed Hershel barely got by safely as the Acura slid into the incoming caravan. Daryl was not so fortunate. Glenn watched, horrified, as Daryl's body was thrown into the air as it impacted with the Acura.

Slamming onto the breaks, Glenn jerked the wheel to the left. As the Hyundai and the road parted, Glenn noticed too late that the country road had been on a fairly steep hill. The Hyundai quickly gained traction, rolling down the steep hill off the side of the road, and Glenn panicked, quickly grabbing Maggie's hand. This hill was far too steep and Glenn prayed that the car would not tip over. Somehow, it didn't, and as the car got to the bottom of the hill, Glenn tried his best to break as quickly as possible to avoid hitting the tall trees that formed the beginnings of a forest, just off the side of the road.

The car stopped.

...

Silence.

"Are you okay?" Glenn asked calmly.

"Somehow," Maggie replied, breathing out deeply. After taking a moment to catch their breaths, they stepped out of the Hyundai.

They were in the woods, just a few feet in. Tall pine and oak trees towered above them, their overgrown limbs forming a sort of dark canopy over their heads. The cold ground below them was littered with the dead leaves that Georgia forests so often had within them. Walking to the tree-line, Glenn examined the area closely. There was maybe a yard of space between the beginning of the woods and the steep hill which the road above was on. Thick, tall grass littered this space, and Glenn could feel the un-kept patch of un-forested land brushing against his pant legs. The hill they'd come down was massive, and it looked as if they'd come down at an almost 90 degree angle.

From the road above, there came yelling. Rick's yelling.

"GLENN! MAGGIE!"

"We're down here!" Glenn replied.

Looking up, they saw Rick at the top of the hill, still on the road above, peering down at the two. Carl stood next to him, silently watching.

"Is anybody hurt?" Rick asked.

"We're fine," Glenn replied, "Just spooked."

Without another word, Rick turned to take care of more urgent business. Carl turned to follow his dad.

Carol, Hershel, and Lori were huddled around Daryl, who was still alive (but pretty banged up) and passed out. Beth joined the three, watching quietly, ready to lend a hand if needed, as she had done many times with her dad in the past – of course, most of her dad's patients had been animals. She'd learned a lot from her dad when Carl had gotten shot. She'd thought about being a doctor once, but any thoughts such as that had long ago been disposed of what with recent events.

"He's lucky," Hershel noted, "He decelerated enough before crashing that his injuries shouldn't be too serious. A few broken bones. Probably no internal bleeding. His leg's broken. We're going to have to adjust it, and we better do it now before he comes around."

As Beth rushed to help her father, Carl joined his own father and T-Dog, who, apart from maybe a small concussion, was fine. Smiling as he stepped out of the Ram, he let out a proud, "That foreign shit doesn't stand a chance against my truck," as he helped Rick rip open the Acura door.

Carl watched as his father and T-Dog examined the man inside. A moment later, Rick motioned for Carl to join the two at the driver's door. Glaring inside the incredibly beat up Acura, Carl saw the dead body before him.

"Take a good look, son," Rick insisted, "This is what happens when you're stupid out here on the road."

"What was he doing, Dad?" Carl replied.

"Probably a scavenger. Trying to pick off the weak like a _coward_," he explained as he grabbed a hold of the body, pulling it out of the car and laying it out on the ground. "Finally met his match."

"Go ahead, Dad," Carl insisted, "Get rid of him."

"No," Rick replied, pulling out his knife, "I want you to do it this time."

Carl hesitated. Looking up at his father with uncertainty, he took the knife, his hands shaking as he contemplated how he could bring himself to do this. He wasn't scared. He knew that he had to protect everyone. Still, when it came time to do something like this, it wasn't exactly easy. He felt his dad's hands grab onto his own, steadying them. With a deep breath, Carl brought the knife down, planting it straight into the forehead of the dead body before him.

"We'll have to sleep here tonight," Rick decided, "There's a town about ten miles north. A group of us can head in tomorrow and get some medical supplies," and then, almost as an afterthought, he finished, "It's going to be a long winter."


	2. Day 2

**Day 2**

_**Christmas Shopping**_

"You know," Daryl offered, sitting on the counter of the small little store, his shirt peeled, his face bruised with pain as Hershel applied new bandages on his body, "My ma... She used to say there ain't ever no snow in Georgia in December. Never comes till February. The year after she died, it snowed on Christmas day. I never did forget that."

"We used to spend Christmas up north," Glenn replied, moving some canned foods into his backpack as he spoke, "My parents didn't really celebrate it... It wasn't part of our culture. We had family in Wisconsin that did celebrate, though, so we'd go visit them. There was always tons of snow... I wonder if they survived. It's probably getting awfully cold up there."

"We need to prepare ourselves," Rick spoke up now, his eyes still peeled on the glass entrance to the small store, watching for Walkers, "There could be a lot of migrants moving down South. We need to find some more permanent shelter. Winter's going to be cold, and we need to be safe." He eyed Lori. "All of us."

"Man, it's like I been sayin'," T-Dog interjected, "We gotta move down further south towards Florida."

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea," Rick replied, "Start moving further south."

"Beat the cold," Hershel agreed, "I've got some family in the Panhandle. If they're still alive, maybe we can find shelter with them."

"Imagine that," Rick replied, cracking a smile, "Sippin' martinis on the beach."

Eyeing the tired and bruised up crowd, his face hardened. "I'll think about it. Florida's a long ways from Fort Benning. I'm not sure if it's the best idea for us to be traveling so far."

Nobody dared issue a rebuttal.

._=~-_

Beth's eyes opened gently to the smell of dying camp fire smoke. She could feel the uncomfortable seat of the Hyundai underneath her, and longer for warmth, her skin cold from the night. Sitting up gently, she noticed she was alone in the vehicle, parked just off the road where they'd set up camp the night before, just a bit into the forest which Glenn had almost crashed into yesterday. Opening the car door, she could hear the _ding, ding, ding_ it insisted on making until she closed the door.

She examined her surroundings. Carol was seated firmly on a cinder block around the fire. Carl was nearby, poking the ashes with a stick he'd found. She frowned. How long had she been asleep? Where was her sister and everyone else? She pondered these things as she made her way towards the back of the Hyundai. Silently, she began to hum to herself. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Singing songs she could remember, trying to keep her sanity.

Opening the trunk of the Hyundai, she pulled out her pink little duffel bag with leopard prints. Even with zombies invading, it was something personalized, something that was _hers_. Pulling out her clothes, she neatly clutched them to her chest as she closed the trunk of the Hyundai and started slightly deeper into the forest, not out of ear shot's range but just enough out to give her some privacy. Normally she and Maggie would cover each others back, but it seemed that it was just her, Carl, and Carol here at the moment. Besides, what could possibly happen? She couldn't have been more than five feet away from camp.

Carl, meanwhile, could not have been more bored. One thing about being a kid growing up during a zombie apocalypse? There's really not that much to do. There was no more television, no more internet. Nothing like that. Sophia had been about Carl's age and that'd been great. He and Sophia had gotten a long nicely, actually, and they'd found things to keep themselves occupied back at the original camp. They'd made up games. Found ways to not be so bored.

And then there had been Shane. Shane had always taken the time out of his day to entertain Carl. He'd taken Carl fishing, taught him how to build a camp fire... Carl frowned. No. Shane was a bad man. He tried to **kill** Carl's dad.

Carl tried not to think about that. It was easier just to ignore that. To forget Shane all together. Just thinking about Shane made Carl want to cry, and right now he could feel tears gathering in his -

**ROAAAARRRRR!**

Carl and Carol jumped to alert at the sound of the Walker's growl, followed by Beth's scream as the poor girl came running out from the woods, jeans on backwards and her shirt in a rumbled mess, only one of her shoes on and the other in her hand. Tripping, falling to Carol's feet, she quickly helped the girl up and tried to console her. Carl, meanwhile, found his hands shaking, clutching onto his rifle. It was locked and loaded, ready to go. He rushed into the forest. He could hear Carol's shouts for him to wait behind him, but he didn't. He had to protect the group. He had to protect Carol and Beth, it's what his dad would do, but honestly, he was scared to death.

He could see it near the tree stump. It was graveling, moving, walking around. A Walker, no doubt. It's hands reaching, searching, confused, the smell of human scent on Beth's discarded clothing, but no human to be found. Walking. Searching. _**Hungry.**_ It needed to eat. _Raaawellgjfjelllalidkso _it was calling out, demanding for its food to come back, searching, lost, without any relative sense of direction.

Carl's gun was pointed. He knew how to do it. He'd done it before, to Shane, but could he do it again? That was to save his dad. But this was to save Carol and Beth, so it was the same, right? No immediate danger. It wasn't that easy to just pull the trigger. It was... **Do it, Carl.**

With a deep breath in, he remembered everything they'd taught him. Ready. Squeeze.

**Psk _pow_**.

Resounding echos of the gun shot, but it wasn't Carl who'd fired his weapon. The Walker was dead, but Carl was genuinely confused, then concerned. Turning, his gun ready, he searched for the source of the gunshot. There. A woman with long, black hair; fair, olive skin; tattered black leather clothing. Carl didn't know who this woman was, but she looked like cat woman.

._=~-_

The group split off the scavenge the rest of town square. Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog were searching for parts – or at least a hammer – to fix up T-Dog's small dent and Daryl's irrevocably damaged motorcycle. Hershel and Lori were searching for some medical supplies for Daryl – bandages, mainly – he'd be fine. He was already back on his feet, but Hershel would have to keep an eye on him. Lastly, Glenn and Maggie were seeing if there was anything else they could round up.

The boys managed to find a small auto-parts shop, a local one. As they approached the building, eyeing the open garages, the abandoned cars lifted into the air by equipment, ready to be inspected – they pulled out their weapons – T-Dog carrying an arrow, a bow ready to go; Daryl carrying a large, metal club; Rick carrying a shot-gun – and got ready to fire at any Walkers they might find inside. Quickly and quietly moving into the garage, they heard nothing. Looking into the cars, they found a few dead, rotting bodies – mechanics – with gun wounds in their heads. No Walkers.

"We're all clear," Rick announced, digging through equipment, looking for anything they could use. Daryl made his way towards the offices of the small repair shop – abandoned, of course, but it smelled just as bad as the dead bodies in the garage. There was a desk in the office with a computer and some old papers upon it, customer invoices and the like – and a picture of a man in a greasy outfit at the shop posing with his daughter. Probably the owner. Daryl's focus wasn't on the old picture of long gone times, though – instead, it was on the bottle of bourbon he found in one of the drawers of the desk. Grinning, he picked it up and moved back out into the garage.

"Hey," he called out.

"What'd you find?" Rick asked as he and T-Dog stopped their searches, joining Daryl in the middle of the garage with a few parts gathered in their hands. When Rick eyed Daryl's bottle of bourbon, a smile spread across his face and he started chuckling. "Yeah. I think I'll take that off your hands."

._=~-_

"You know," Hershel broke the awkward silence as he and Lori dug through the counters at the pharmacy. "It's none of my business, but I've noticed that there seems to be a wedge between you and Rick. If there's ever anything you need to talk about..."

"Thanks," Lori replied abruptly, "I appreciate that, Hershel. Rick and I... We... We're just going through a rough patch. That's all."

"Lori, I've been married twice in my life, and believe me, we had our share of rough patches. Not talking to your spouse in two weeks is more than what we call a rough patch. Now, I know it's not my place, but what's best for you and Rick is what's best for all of us. Have you tried _talking_ to him? Rick's a good man. He can see reason."

"Rick... Rick is a good man. I've let him down. As a wife, I've failed him, and I can see it in his eyes. When I... When he told me what had happened. When he told me everything. I wanted to be there for him, I really did, but I-"

"You felt hurt. We all did. But people are finally realizing that Rick's our only hope to get through this, and we've got to support him."

"I know. I just don't know if he'll let me in," Lori replied, "I can't even get Carl to talk to me."

"Everything's going to be just fine," Hershel assured her, "You've just gotta believe in your marriage. You've got to have faith."

._=~-_

"Damn it, kid," the woman cursed as Carl took in her sexy figure. She was walking towards him, but he reaffirmed his stance, holding his gun up to make her stop. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."

She put her gun, a sawed-off-shot-gun, down, and Carl slowly lowered his. The woman crouched down over the dead Walker, pulling out a knife and cutting into his fingers.

"You made me kill my bate."

"B-bate!?" Carl replied, unsure what to make of the situation.

"Bate. Well, not really bate. I call it bate, but I guess it's more of a tracker. The Walker searches for food, and I follow behind it. If I'm lucky, it finds a dear, and I get to it before this guy does."

"That's crazy," Carl replied.

"Food supply's low. A girl's gotta eat, and I like the taste of fresh dear meat better than the taste of canned, processed food. What's your name?"

"Carl," he replied, "What's yours?"

"_Meagan._ What's a kid like you doing out in the middle of the woods alone, anyway?"

"He's not alone," Carol replied, walking up to Carl and putting her hand on his shoulder, glaring coldly at Meagan.

"Who's this, kid? Your grandma?" Meagan replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" Carol demanded.

"Relax, lady. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm just passing by, searching for food."

"I think you need to go," Carol replied.

"Relax" Meagan replied, sawing into the Walker with her knife, "I'll be out of your hair just as soon as I'm done with this guy. I need his body parts to attract a new one. If I burn these body parts, it releases their scent, attracts them like crazy."

"That sounds dangerous," Carl replied, "You need to go. Far away. Light your fire somewhere else."

"Why?" Meagan replied, "You got a _camp_ or something?"

"You don't need to know about that!" Carol fired back.

Rick's voice came over the walkie talkie radio that Carol had fastened to her belt buckle. "Carol, come in."

"Who's that?" Meagan asked, amused as she stood up, depositing the freshly cut body parts into the book bag she wore upon her back, "Your husband?"

"What?" Carol asked, "Hell no."

Carol still had a hard time even looking at Rick, the bastard.

"Look, kids," Meagan settled, "I'm going to meet back up with _my_ camp. We'll set the fire a few miles away. You won't have to worry about us."

She started to walk away.

"Wait!" Carl shouted out, "How many of you are there?"

"Tell your grandma to take a chill pill, kid!" Meagan shouted out as she disappeared into the tree line.

._=~-_

By about noon, the group had met back up at the center of town square. All together, today, they'd managed to round up enough food for a week, some fresh water, auto-supplies (and a hammer), a big, unopened bottle of bourbon (Wild Turkey), bandages, some pain killers, three extra containers of gas in case of emergency, and a bunch of CD's.

As they loaded it all up into their cars, Rick noted, "We've gotten lucky so far. Some of these smaller towns are a lot more full of supplies, but I think we've got to start planning. Looters have picked off a lot of these places, and it's only going to get worse the more time goes on. We need to start checking _houses_, seeing what we can find there."

"There's a neighborhood just around the block. Should we go check there?"

"No, that's fine," Rick replied, "This is plenty for now. Did anyone find any ammunition?"

No response.

"We're getting low. Might be a good idea to look for a pawn shop next time we stop."

"We could check in Plains," Daryl suggested, "Who knows. Maybe Jimmy Carter's still alive down there too."

"At the very least, we'd have a lot of peanuts," T-Dog added.

"Plains is a long way away," Rick replied, "This is exactly what I'm talking about. We've got to start searching these houses. Somebody's bound to have weapons and ammo waiting for the taking. We'll come back tomorrow and check it out. For now, we need to be getting back to camp."

"Rick," Maggie replied, walking over to Rick, a walky-talky radio in her hand, "Carol's on the radio. She says there's a problem."

...

"Okay, Rick," Carol replied as she held the radio to her mouth with one hand and comforted Beth with the other, "We're all safe here. Take your time."

Putting the radio on the ground, Carol stood up, looking down at poor, frightened Beth sympathetically. "I'll be right back. I have to go up to the road to signal the others so they don't pass the camp. Are you going to be okay here?"

"I-I'm fine," Beth replied, not sure if she really was fine or not.

"Carl," Carol said, motioning him over to her, "Can you keep an eye on Beth? She's a little shaken up, and I don't want her here alone."

"Sure thing," Carl replied, "Leave it to me."

Carol smiled. "You're growing into quite the young man, you know that?"

Carl tried hard not to smile as Carol turned and started walking towards the road.

Carl proceeded to find the stick he'd been poking the fire with earlier. He continued his poking, a way to kill the time in such a boring day and age, but his mind was elsewhere. Who was that woman back there, he wondered. What had she intended to do with that Walker? What kind of food was she searching for? These things and more were racing through his mind, and he barely even noticed that Beth had started to cry, tears flooding her face.

"I really am useless, aren't I?" Beth complained.

"Yep," Carl agreed. An angry look spread across Beth's face, but Carl shot her a grin. "Sorry, that was mean."

"I can't even shoot a gun! How am I supposed to _survive_ out here when I can't even shoot a gun?"

"My dad says that he's going to start training everyone soon," Carl replied. "You're everyone, right?"

"I don't think my dad will let me even hold a gun."

"If my dad says he's going to do something, he does it," Carl protested. "He's in charge now."

"Yeah," Beth replied, wiping the tears away from her face, "I guess."

/

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE _HAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWW!_"

Daryl was having the time of his life.

His motorcycle was back at the camp still, but as the group had set out of town, he set his sites on an abandoned ATV on the side of the road in a ditch next to some old mattresses and a few old beer bottles. The ATV still worked, and some of the parts could be used to help repair Daryl's bike – so Daryl volunteered to drive it back (despite Hershel's objections about how he needed to take it easy), and one thing led to another...

And now Glenn was riding behind Daryl. On the mattress. Lying down. Being pulled by the four wheeler. Yes. Glenn was mattress surfing. He and Daryl had huge, stupid grins on their face as they road along in the wind, but in the vehicles behind them were a very frightened Maggie and Lori. Neither Rick nor T-Dog seemed to think the situation was very reckless, and Hershel stayed silent on the matter.

"Let them have fun," Rick had said, "What's it going to hurt?"

"That's what I'm worried about," Lori had replied.

Still, here they were, zipping down the old country road.

"HEY! Daryl!" Glenn shouted out against the wind.

"WHAT? SPEAK UP, SON!" Daryl shouted back.

"GO FASTER!" Glenn shouted.

Daryl seemed to hear that just fine, as he turned his head and gave Glenn a stupid grin which made Glenn insanely worried when -

"STOP!" Glenn yelled, pointing in front of Daryl, making him whip his head around to s-

_**Screeeeeeech.**_

This time, luckily, nobody crashed into anything.

There was a woman standing in the middle of the road, a sawed-off-shot-gun in her hand and nothing but black leather clothing her body. Next thing anyone knew, everyone was pulled over, weapons drawn at this now-very-out-numbered-but-incredibly-sexy woman – little did they know, it was Meagan, the same woman Carl and Carol had just encountered.

"Put down the gun," Rick demanded, "And no one has to get hurt."

"My, my, my," Meagan commented, "Quite the impressive caravan. You folks must be with the camp that boy I just ran into was talking about."

"You've got a funny way of trying to make peace!" Rick shouted back.

"Easy, big guy," Meagan replied, dropping her gun, "He was quite the handsome young boy. I wonder, who's son is he? Is it..."

She walked over towards Daryl, who's crossbow was ready to go, wavering, but for some reason, he didn't shoot an arrow at her – he was entranced and a little confused as she walked over to him, admiring him, running her hand across his scruffy face. "Yours?"

She smiled a seductive smile, walking towards Rick now.

"One more step and I won't hesitate to shoot you," Rick warned her.

"You boys sure know how to treat a lady," Meagan replied, stopping.

"What did you do to my son!?" Lori demanded.

"Oh, calm your tits, hon," Meagan replied, shaking her head, "I didn't touch him. He _killed_ my Walker though."

"Your walker? What do you mean _your _walker?" Glenn quizzed, hoping Maggie didn't see how his eyes were darting on her body – he couldn't help it. It was the leather.

"For hunting," Meagan replied, rolling her eyes, "Look, I thought you were someone else. That's why I held you all up. I'm just gonna be going no-"

"NOT SO FAST!" Rick shouted. "You said you were at our camp."

"Yeah, I guess I was near it. Why?"

Rick's eyes met with Daryl's, and then with Hershel's who just gave Rick a nod.

_**Pow.**_

/

Carol sighed, cradling her head in her hands as she sat, waiting, on the hood of the beaten up Acura. Rick and the group sure were taking their sweet time. With a bit of idle curiosity, she stood up and walked over to the passenger door of the Acura, opening it and sitting in the seat of the car. Looking around to see what she could scavenge, she found a bunch of CD's, some bottles of water, a few blankets, a plastic bag of what looked like jerky, and a bunch of papers – including a map. Folding the map out before her, she could see that it was a map of the county they were in, with huge, red circles drawn around certain parts of it, and a green circle around the part of the county they were currently in, as well as around a few other areas.

Folding the map back up, she opened the dashboard. She found a few more zip log bags of some white, crushed up powder and a hand written note:

_**Paul,**_

_Didn't want to wake you. Going into the woods to hunt; I should be back in about a week. Remember to feed the prisoners and be careful out there. If we're lucky, I should be able to find enough meat to get us through the rest of the month. Don't miss me too much. Get Jackson to help you move supplies if you find someone passing by._

_Your kitten,_

_**Meagan**_

Carol was distracted from the note when she heard the roar of engines approaching. She stepped out of the Acura and walked back over to the road to see the caravan, plus a four wheeler, drive up. She flashed a smile at Daryl, but she could see concern in his eyes. _Oh God. Who got killed._

That's when she saw a woman dressed up in leather tied up on Daryl's mattress.

And when Meagan's eyes met Carol's, they showed pain – blood was gushing out of her leg. And then, she saw the dead body of Paul on the road next to Carol, and she started to scream.

/

"Dad!" Carl rushed up to his dad the moment he stepped out of the Chevy.

"Not now, Carl. Give your mother a hand unloading the supplies."

Rick moved quickly towards the four wheeler, where Daryl was waiting for him, hovering over Meagan as tears streamed down her face and blood poured out of her leg. Hershel was quick to join them, ready to get to work, and Carl watched silently as he realized that this was the woman he'd seen earlier.

"Dad, that-"

"Carl!" Rick said more sternly, "I **said** to help your mother. Don't make me repeat myself again."

Carl turned slowly and walked over to his mother, who was unloading supplies from the Hyundai.

"Here, Carl, take this," Lori said, handing Carl a cardboard box, "We'll set it by the fire until it's time for dinner."

Carl obediently took the box, but his mind was full of questions.

"Mom," Carl said, "What happened?"

"Don't worry, honey," Lori replied, "That _woman_ is just someone we ran into on the road, but your dad's got it under control."

"Mom, you don't have to protect me."

"I'll always protect you, Carl, you're my baby boy."

"Nobody tells me anything around here," Carl muttered, walking away.

"Hey!" Lori sternly called out, "Watch your tone."

Carl didn't turn around, and Lori just sighed a deep sigh. _What am I going to do about him._

Carl quickly put the cardboard box of food down by the fire as Beth approached him.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"The woman I ran into in the woods," Carl explained, "The one who killed the Walker. They've got her tied up. She's been shot."

"Shot?" Beth asked, a tint of worry in her voice, "Is everyone okay? - Maggie? My dad?"

"Yeah," Carl replied, "Everyone's fine."

"Okay," Hershel said quietly to the men huddled around him – and Carol - "We'll have to hold her steady. This is going to hurt. A lot."

Daryl voluntarily held down her upper-body as Rick held down her legs. Carol moved quickly to the Hyundai and, digging through it, found a clean sock and walked back over to Meagan.

"Open up," Carol demanded. Meagan refused. "I'm only going to tell you once."

Meagan sighed, opening her mouth as Carol stuffed the sock into it. Hershel dug through his medical bag, finding a knife and a few alcoholic pads and a cloth.

"Glenn," Hershel said now, looking up towards Glenn.

"Oh, I can't – I'm a little squeamish. I mean, I know we kill Walkers all the time, but-"

"Can you bring me that bottle of bourbon now?"

"Oh. Right. On it."

As Glenn moved to find the bourbon, Hershel looked up at Carol. "You said you wanted to learn. I hope you still have that same desire."

"What do you need me to do, Hershel?" Carol replied.

"When I cut through the leg, we're going to have to get the bullet fragments out. As soon as I've got them out, we're going to have to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible. You're going to have to apply as much pressure to the wound as you can."

"Right," Carol confirmed, "That I can do."

"Good."

"Here you go, Hershel," Glenn said, handing Hershel the bottle of Wild Turkey. Opening it up with a pop, he took the cap of the liquor and poured a bit into it. Gently pouring the bourbon in the cap onto his knife, he handed the bottle and the cap back to Glenn and looked over to the others.

"Ready?"

/

As Meagan's muffled screams echoed into the sock in her mouth, Carl's eyes were set on the road at the edge of the forest, which he was slowly walking towards. It wasn't Meagan's screams he was hearing, but something else, something in the distance, from the road. He needed to find what it was. So, softly, he walked, hearing the crunch of the leaves under his boots, feeling the cold winter wind blowing into his face.

By the time he reached the tree line, he could distinctly hear it, now. It wasn't just one engine. It was a number of them – about three, it sounded like. Quietly setting his boots into the steep hill he'd climbed earlier, he made his way up, listening intently, stopping just before getting to the top, his eyes peering onto the road, hoping he didn't get caught.

There were two trucks and a large van in park near the Acura. Carl could see boots moving from where he was, on the other side of the van. The boots were moving towards the van, where they stopped. Carl could hear a sliding door opening on the van, and then heard a rather loud _thump_ as they threw something inside. Then, some of the boots disappeared, men stepping inside, while a few others moved into clear sight – they were all men dressed in tattered hunting clothing. A few got inside their trucks, and one stepped into the driver's position of the van. A beat, and then the vehicles made their way down the road towards town.

Carl noticed it immediately once the trucks were gone. They'd taken the body of the Acura driver.

/

Two hours passed. Meagan was still passed out from the pain of her surgery, tied up with better restraints now, around a tree. Daryl was working on his bike, and T-Dog was making the bed of his truck into, well, a literal _bed_ with the mattress, strapping it down. Rick and Hershel were checking out the scene on the road after Carl had told them about what had happened with the trucks earlier. Maggie and Glenn were keeping guard, walking the perimeter of the camp and killing any Walkers they might have found. Beth was taking a nap, which left poor Carl all by himself drawing figures in the dirt, sitting near Meagan, watching, thinking, waiting as his mom and Carol talked by the camp fire.

He was so curious about this strange woman. The way she hadn't seemed afraid when Carl had pointed his gun at her. The way she'd cut off the limbs of the walker. How... Pretty she was. Being a growing boy, Carl found it... Awkward. He was starting puberty in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, after all. Sex wasn't thing on his mind these days. But of course he thought about it. Hormones were raging through his body.

Sighing, he stood up. He was just so _confused._ He'd had a crush on Sophia before – well, to be honest, she'd had the crush on _him, _and she'd told him that – just before, well, y'know. It made him sad to think about it. Because when he did think about it, he realized that, well, he'd liked Sophia back. But she was dead. _Everyone died._ That's what his dad had said. He had to stop being such a kid.

So, how did he do that, anyway? What was a _man_ supposed to act like? He needed to learn, and how better to learn but through the power of observation? Walking past the camp fire where his mom and Carol were jabbering away, and over to where the vehicles were parked, he saw Daryl, sitting on a log by his bike, a wrench in his hand as he did, well, whatever he was doing. Carl watched silently, trying to observe the handy work, to learn more about, well, motorcycles, and it wasn't long before Daryl noticed. He almost told the kid to scram, but decided to take a nicer approach instead.

"Hey, kid," Daryl motioned Carl over, "I need you to get me the rear axle sleeve off that four wheeler, think you can handle it?"

"Y-yeah," Carl replied. He didn't really know what a rear axle sleeve was, but how hard could it be? Moving over to the four wheeler, Carl picked up the spare wrench off the ground and bent down by the back wheel. Rear axle, right? He looked at the wheel for a good few minutes before finally realizing he had no idea what he was doing.

"Um... I... Have to go... Do... Something," Carl explained, dropping the wrench and running off, leaving Daryl to just laugh as he continued working on the bike.

Okay, so, maybe motorcycles weren't his thing, but T-Dog was manly, right? Approaching T-Dog, Carl watched as he fastened down the mattress in the bed of his truck. T-Dog eventually noticed Carl and didn't say anything but did give him a 'man-what-you-doin' look before shrugging it off.

"Won't the Walkers be able to get to you easier if you're stuck in the truck bed?" Carl offered – it wouldn't be as easy to escape a truck bed as it would to escape the cold hard ground in the middle of the night.

"Man, I dunno," T-Dog replied, "But I sure as hell ain't gonna sleep without a gun like some _fool_."

"Do you need help?" Carl offered eagerly.

"I ain't needin' any help, I think I got it."

"Um... Okay."

Carl sighed, picking up his stick and walking back over to the tree where Meagan was tied up to continue drawing. He'd learn to be a man tomorrow. For today, he'd just continue drawing. It was going to be evening soon, and his dad would be returning with Hershel any minute, and Maggie and Glenn would be back, too. And Beth would be awake. He'd have things to do, but for now, he just kept drawing. It suited him just fine.

...

By the time Rick and Hershel returned from their fruitless adventure on the road – searching for the men Carl had seen – it was getting dark. Rick had decided to set up camp there for the night and leave first thing in the morning – they'd drop Meagan off somewhere outside of town. But in the meanwhile, they had a bottle of bourbon and food for dinner, so it was time to have a night of fun, something the group rarely got these days.

Carol and Lori were getting the food ready, cooking over the open flame.

"Soo," Lori offered, making sure nobody else was around to listen in, "What's up with you and Daryl?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Carol replied, a smile on her face.

"Mhm," Lori replied, "Listen. You be careful with him. Those Dixon boys are a little _too_ wild sometimes."

"I need a little wild," Carol replied, "God knows Ed was a lot of things – a drunk, for one – but he was never wild, unless he was beating me.

"Do you... Nevermind."

"No, what is it?" Carol asked.

"Do you ever miss him? Excuse me. I know it's none of my business, it's... just..."

"You and Rick?" Carol asked knowingly. "Some days I miss him. Then I remember how much pain he put us through. I think it's Sophia I miss most of all... It's... It's hard," she swallowed hard, "When your baby's gone."

"I can only imagine what you're going through," Lori replied, "Here I am, babbling on about my marriage problems, and you've gone through so much."

"Yeah, well," she rubbed the tears out of her eyes, "I rely on God's strength to get me through it. One day at a time. And I survive. We've all lost so much. The only thing we can do is stick together."

/

Daryl was burning hot.

No, really. The muscle relaxing ointment Hershel had made him apply to his back was burning hot, and it itched too. T-Dog had just gotten his mattress strapped in and it'd taken some convincing for Daryl to get to lie down on it, but it was the most comfortable place for his muscles to relax. So comfy, in fact, that he slowly started to doze off to sleep.

"Hey, Daryl."

Daryl groaned. "This better be pretty damn important, kid."

"Sorry," Carl replied, "I was wondering if you could give me some pointers on something but I'll come back later."

Carl let out a deep sigh. He was just about to go ask his dad for advice when he saw his mom get up from the camp fire and start moving towards him. Deciding not to disturb Daryl any further, he walked towards his mom. He knew that she and his dad weren't talking, and that kind of upset him, but he still loved both of his parents, even if they annoyed him sometimes.

"Carl, why don't you go wash your hands? It's almost time for dinner."

Ugh. Why did she always treat him like a little kid?

Lori started walking towards the road. Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Hershel were up there, well, doing whatever guys did. It was probably a bad time, but it'd been pressing on Lori's mind for a few hours now. Their marriage was falling apart. Lori needed to talk with Rick, needed to repair the broken damage, and she couldn't wait any longer. She had to do it. For Carl and herself. She **needed** Rick.

When Lori got to the edge of the tree line, she glanced at the steep hill and, with a deep breath and a mini-pep-talk, decided to go ahead and climb it instead of walking down the road the half-a-mile distance to where the hill got less steep. Lori was doing good and was about half-way-up when she lost her footing and started to fall, letting out a small scream before stopping her fall. That was a close one. She didn't know what to do now, and was trying to work up the courage to keep climbing when she heard a voice.

"Give me your hand."

It was her husband. She stretched her hand out towards him, but she couldn't reach. Climbing on up a little bit higher, she managed to reach his hand with a little more effort, and she could feel him pulling her up. Her eyes looked down, trying to avoid, well, how awkward this was. The words Hershel had given her earlier that morning were running through her head.

"Is everything okay?" Rick asked, not overly-sincere, once she was on solid ground. She could see T-Dog, Hershel, and Glenn around a small fire near the Acura on the other side of the road.

"Yeah. Dinner's almost ready, I just... thought... you guys might... Everything's fine," Lori replied, "Well, no. Not really. Rick, I know we haven't really been getting along lately, and well, I mean, I'm sorry for what I d.. Um. But, uh-"

Rick's eyes were harsh.

"Spit it out."

"I want you."

A beat.

"...What did you just say?"

"Not... you... as in... you," Lori said, her eyes glancing over Rick's... handsome body. "I mean, I do want you, but - Oh my God."

Rick just shook his head.

"Rick, we need to talk."

But it was too late. Rick was already walking away. Why was he always walking away?

/

"So, here comes ol' Earl," Rick explained, laughing his ass off as he took another swig of bourbon. The laughter of the other three guys was equally as loud, "Here comes Earl, right? And, and. Okay. And he had this stupid look on his face, just looking around, trying to find out where he was, and he looks at us, and, and, Billy says, 'Problem, deputy?' and he just says, 'I think I grabbed the wrong pack of cigarettes.'"

It'd been a stupid joke to be sure, but everything was funnier when you were drinking with your buddies, and this seemed hysterical to the men as they sat around their small fire, off the side of the road in the small grass field opposite to the forest where they'd set up camp.

"I had this buddy up in Atlanta," Glenn explained, "Who, whenever I would call him or go over to his apartment, he'd always be on his phone a lot. Well, one day, I get ov-"

**Vroooooooom, vroom vrooooooom.**

Glenn's story was cut short by the flooding sight of headlights on the road as tires squeeled. The four men immediately stood up, alarmed, drawing their weapons. To their surprise, they saw T-Dog's truck come over the hill on the other side of the road, pull onto the road itself, and then take off towards town.

"That's my _truck!" _T-Dog yelled, "HELL NAW!"

"Rick," Herhsel spoke up, urgency in his voice, "Daryl."

"Right. Glenn, get back to the camp as quick as you can. Make sure everyone's okay, and bring a car. **GO!**"

"I'll go with him," Hershel volunteered, "If someone's hurt, they're going to need me down there."

As Glenn and Hershel quickly took off towards camp, Rick practically ripped the Acura's driver door open, sitting inside and closing his eyes.

_Please, work. Please, please work._

He tried turning the key. _Wahwahwahwahwahwahwahwah._ The engine wouldn't turn over. He tried again, tapping the gas this time. _WahwahwahwahwahwahwahwahVROO OM!_

"Hop in!" Rick demanded as T-Dog quickly slid into the passenger seat. Rick put the car in drive and practically floored it, peeling onto the road and after T-Dog's truck in the beat up Acura.

/

"I thought I told you to leave me alone, kid."

Daryl's eyes opened to the sight of trees flying by. What the hell!? His eyes darted to the cab. He could see a couple of guys driving – definitely not people he knew. He was contemplating what to do, especially considering he was in a truck flying down the road at 70 miles per hour, when he heard a voice shouting in his ear.

"**You fuckin' dare move and I'll blow your brains out right here and now."**

He could feel a gun at his head.

"Aw, hell."

A/N: Thanks for the warm reception so far guys! To the reader who commented about Fort Benning, they say in the Season 3 premier that the group basically goes in a giant circle. The group's half way between Atlanta and Fort Benning now and their *plan* is to try to go to Fort Benning but as we know, their plans rarely go right. :P I'm from Fort Benning myself so I know most of the roads they'd be taking etc.


	3. Day 3

**A/N: Okay! **So, this chapter is super, super, super long, but it's full of action. For those of you who read Ninety Days Of Winter, this story's previous reincarnation, and liked the romance aspect of it, you should check out my new story, Best Summer Ever. As always, thanks for the love and support. Day 4, the conclusion of Part 1: The Hunting Grounds, is coming soon.

**Day Three**

**Midnight.**

It'd been about six hours since Daryl had been kidnapped. The group had been searching for hours, but any sign of him had disappeared without a trace. Everyone was starting to fear the worse. There was literally miles of ground to cover. They only had nine people – ten, counting the prisoner – eleven if you wanted to get technical and count Lori's unborn baby.

Rick decided that everyone should circle the search perimeter one more time and see if they could find Daryl. If they didn't find him in this search, they'd have to call it a night and wait till day break. So far, nobody had really been in luck. Rick was with Hershel, searching – and they were just about to call it a night. Rick was beginning to get a very nerve-wracking feeling in his gut.

It was dark, and Rick's eyes were peeled on the road ahead, which the headlights illuminated. Hershel's eyes wandered, trying to find any glimmer of life off the sides of the road. All Rick was thinking was how he could have been so stupid. He'd let his guard down. He'd failed the camp.

"See anything?" Rick asked hopefully.

"Not a thing," Hershel replied.

"Just a little bit further, then we'll turn around."

Hershel glanced over at Rick.

"Rick. You said that half an hour ago. It's getting dark, and you're getting tired. You're not going to be of any use to Daryl like this."

"I won't be of any use to Daryl if he's dead."

"Think about the others, Rick. We need to turn back now. We're getting further and further away from the camp."

"I'm not turning back yet," Rick replied stubbornly, "Just a little longer."

Hershel's eyes returned to the sides of the road.

A brief moment of silence.

"Rick," another voice echoed, through a bit of static, over one of the radios – it was Carol.

Rick picked the radio up, holding it up to his face.

"Go ahead."

"How far out are you?"

"About half an hour," Rick replied, "Any luck?"

"None," she replied.

"What's up?"

"Meagan's awake. She says she thinks she knows who took Daryl."

"What!?" Rick exclaimed. "Did she tell you who it was?"

"No," she replied, "She wants to talk to you."

"Alright," Rick replied, "We'll be back as soon as we can. Is everyone safe?"

"Everyone's here, safe and sound," Carol replied.

"Got it. Thanks, Carol."

/

"You're welcome, Rick," Carol enthusiastically replied, setting the radio down on the ground, next to the log she was sitting on. She looked around at Lori, Carl, and Glenn, who joined her on the logs, around the camp fire. Her eyes peered further out, at Meagan, tied up a bit behind Lori, away from the camp fire. Carol desperately wanted to go try to get the answers out of Meagan herself, right now. It was all she could do to contain herself. She was just so worried about Daryl.

"What do you think she wants?" Glenn asked, his eyes darting over towards Meagan as well.

"What do you mean, what _she_ wants?" Lori asked.

"You don't honestly think she's going to talk for free, do you?" Glenn replied, "It's like in the movies. They always try to negotiate with you."

"Negotiate?" Lori scoffed, "How's this for a negotiation? She can talk, or she can pay the consequences."

"Remind me never to cross you," Glenn quietly said, earning a small smile from Carl.

His smile quickly faded.

"Do you think Daryl's going to be okay?" Carl asked.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, honey," Carol replied, talking not just to Carl, but to herself as well. "He's got to be."

"Daryl's one tough-ass guy," Glenn added, "I'd be more worried about the guys who kidnapped him."

"I didn't get a good look at them," Lori said. "How did they sneak in so well?"

"They looked like hunters," Glenn replied, "They were wearing camouflage jackets and carrying shot guns."

"Like those guys I saw earlier," Carl chimed in, "I wonder if they're from her camp."

"I'm not sure," Glenn replied, "When we ran into her, she was waiting on someone on the road, holding up her gun. She was expecting someone else, not us. Like, she was going to kill whoever she was waiting on."

"If you're right," Carol interjected, worriedly, "We may have thrown ourselves into the middle of a war."

/

_Zip._

Maggie buttoned her jeans, picking her gun up off the ground next to her. Turning to face her sister, she could see that Beth had a slightly frightened look on her face. The two girls were in the middle of the woods right now, a short walk away from camp. Beth had been like this all night.

"Daryl's fine, Beth," Maggie told her, "I'm sure of it."

"You don't know that!" Beth exclaimed.

"Of course I do. This is _Daryl_ we're talking about. He's fine. I know it."

The two girls started walking back towards camp.

"I hope you're right," Beth replied, "Oh, _gosh._ I feel so bad for Carol."

"What do you mean?" Maggie replied.

"You haven't noticed the way she looks at him?" Beth replied, "Oh come on, Maggie. It's so obvious."

Maggie managed a laugh. "What's so obvious? How does she look at Daryl?"

"Like she's _in love._"

"And what do_ you_ know about love?" Maggie countered, amused.

Beth felt her face grow warmer.

"Just, you know, from books and movies. I haven't actually been in love."

Not yet, anyway.

/

T-Dog was pretty upset. He'd just lost his truck – and Daryl – and hadn't been able to find them at all tonight. He wanted to be out there looking now, but Rick had called it a night. He was still waiting for Rick and Hershel to return. It was around midnight, and he was on guard, walking through the woods, an axe swinging around in his hand, a gun holstered onto his side.

He hadn't heard anything yet. He'd been on guard since he got back, about fifteen minutes ago. Just as he'd been starting to leave, that Meagan girl had finally spoken – she said she wanted to talk to Rick. This made T-Dog even more distracted. What the hell could she possibly know about any of this, and more importantly, how could they trust her?

T-Dog quickly came up on the tree-line. He was near the road right now, a few yards south east from where the Acura had been earlier on the road. He didn't see anything at the tree-line, and started to make the climb up the steep hill towards the road. He wanted to see if he could spot Rick and Hershel yet. He was getting anxious. Understandably so, seeing as how it was his truck that had been stolen.

Climbing onto the road above, his eyes peered into the darkness, in both directions. No signs of head lights. He started walking towards the ashes of the campfire that he and the boys had set up here earlier, just a bit up the road. _How did I get myself in this mess. I should be in Atlanta, chillin' with my boys right now. This is so messed up._

_**Swoosh.**_

T-Dog dropped the axe and quickly pulled out his gun, pointing it towards the grass in the clearing across the road. He could swear that he'd just heard a noise. He didn't see anything. Maybe it was just the wind. He started walking towards the clearing, gun still raised. _Swoosh._ He saw a figure – it was a person – running.

"Hey, stop!" T-Dog yelled out.

No response - the figure kept running.

"I said stop!"

T-Dog sighed and started running after it, debating rather to shoot or not. It wasn't a Walker. He didn't think they could run this fast. No, it had to be a human. He just couldn't make out who the figure was in the darkness. Evidently, they were no immediate threat. He needed to get them to stop, to get answers. So, he kept running, and eventually, the clearing was met with another tree-line – more woods, on the opposite side of the road as camp.

/

"Maggie, are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure. Camp's just a little further. _I think._"

"You **think**?"

"Hey, give me a break. It's dark. We'll be fine, Beth. I know what I'm doing."

"We're... lost, aren't we, Maggie?"

"We're not lost."

"What if we can't find our way back to camp?" Beth questioned, a bit more worried, "What if we never see Dad or Glenn or Carl again. What if we-"

"Maggie, I said we're fine. The road's that way," she replied, pointing north, "If we can't find camp, we'll just walk back to the road and find our way back."

"I-if you say so."

Silence.

"Hey, Maggie?" Beth asked, "About what you said. Do you and Glenn-"

"Shh," Maggie replied.

"Maggie, I'm trying to ask you a-"

"Be quiet, Beth. Listen."

Beth closed her mouth, trying to listen to what her sister was hearing. Was it a walker!? A wave of panic ran through her, but then, she heard it. It wasn't a walker. It was...

"Is that-?"

"I think so," Maggie replied, a slight grin spreading on her face. "It... It sounds like water."

/

"Maggie and Beth sure are taking their sweet time," Glenn noted. He was getting a little worried. It'd been ten minutes, and they still hadn't come back yet.

"Give the girls some space," Lori replied, "I'm sure they're fine. They'd radio if something was wrong."

"Yeah, I know, it's just -"

"Wait. Do you hear that?" Carol questioned.

The sound of an engine.

"Dad?" Carl questioned, standing and turning, his eyes darting through the trees towards the road in the distance.

"Let's hope so," Glenn replied, grabbing his gun and getting it ready. He needed to be safe. He didn't feel that safe – he was the only one armed here. Carl thought about grabbing a gun as well, but his mom would have a fit. Glenn was the only one well trained right now. Which meant, if this was the guys from earlier, Glenn would be the first one to die.

The group watched as headlights appeared in the distance, navigating through the trees towards the camp. It was a tight squeeze, which gave Glenn more than enough time to think about what could go wrong here. He was trying not to shake. _Deep breaths. Deep breaths._ Luckily, the shape of the vehicle soon became clear, and even in the darkness, they realized it was Rick and Hershel, and Glenn lowered his weapon.

"Wow," Glenn quietly breathed a silent sigh of relief as the headlights and engine cut off. Rick and Hershel stepped out of the vehicle, meeting Carl, Carol, and Lori who rushed over towards them. Glenn found himself sitting back down to get a hold of himself. That could have been bad.

"Has she said anything" Rick asked Carol.

"Nothing yet," Carol replied, glaring over towards Meagan, "Not since earlier. She was determined to talk only to you."

"I can't say that I'm all that flattered," Rick replied, approaching Meagan quickly. He drew his gun, pointing it right at Meagan, earning slight gasps from those behind him. Everyone was still getting used to this new Rick. He was a lot different now. He had been ever since they'd lost Shane.

"Talk," Rick demanded.

Meagan could see that he didn't intend to play any games. Her facial expressions quickly became much more serious.

"The guys who have your man," she started, "They have a compound, about forty miles away, across the county. They're hunters, like me. They use walkers to track down supplies – food. Deer. Maybe people with supplies, if we're lucky."

"You and the man from the Acura," Rick replied, "You two are part of this group?"

"No," Meagan replied, "Their compound's crawling with fresh meat. Perfect for hunting. It's near the interstate, too. They've got all kinds of traps set up for people passing by. My camp and I moved over here from the county over about a month ago. We ran into trouble with these guys, saying we were hunting in _their spot_. We got in a firefight, lost two of our guys."

"What do these guys want with our people?" Rick demanded.

"I'm _getting_ to that. Paul, my boyfriend. He was incredible. He led us here, to this part of the county. It's good for hunting, and they don't bother coming this far away from their compound. Everything's been pretty quiet for about a month... Their leader. Michael. He's pretty ruthless... If I were your friend, I'd be worried."

Her eyes locked with Rick's.

"You need me to take you to him. The sooner, the better. Maybe you can make some kind of deal."

"You still haven't explained what they want with my people."

"They _don't," _she replied angrily. "They don't want _anything_ with your people. They want me. And they've got a hostage. But you can't trade me, it won't do you any good anyway. They won't honor their word. They'll take me, and then kill your friend. You need me. You need my help to rescue your friend."

_Static._

"Hey, Rick," T-Dog's voice came over the radio.

"Go ahead," Rick replied, holding the radio to his mouth.

"I think I found something you may want to see."

/

_Gagged_.

Still gagged, unable to talk.

Daryl had been in this dark room for hours now. He didn't really know where he was. By his estimate, probably some thirty miles away from camp. Maybe more. Maybe less. He knew that the chair he was cuffed to was really uncomfortable. He knew that if he made a sound, the man sitting across from him, on the other side of this wooden table, would shoot him dead.

The man had a large beard, and quite the beer gut. He had dark, red hair, covered by a cap. He, like everyone else he'd seen here so far, was dressed in hunting clothes. He had large scratch marks on his face, and something told Daryl that a walker hadn't caused those. Daryl didn't want to know what had.

It was now, after what had to have been hours of silence, that the man sitting across from Daryl finally spoke, his words apologetic.

"You ain't got nothin' to worry about, y'know," he told Daryl, "We ain't after none of you or your group."

"Shut up," Daryl replied.

"It's just that lady you got tied up in your camp," he continued, "She ain't exactly our best of friends here, if y'know what I mean."

"I said shut up," Daryl said again.

"I was just tryin' to keep ya compan-"

_Creek._

A door slowly opened, illuminating a bit of light into the room. Daryl could now see that he was in what looked like a small, empty bed-room. On the other side of the room from where he was sitting, an empty bed sat comfortably. It looked very nice compared to the uncomfortable chair Daryl had been in for the last few hours.

Standing at the door was another man, the one who had been in the back of the truck with Daryl earlier. This man had black hair, short, neatly cut into a buzz. He had a much more muscular body than the other man sitting across from Daryl. His face looked stern, eyes deciphering the situation. He was not as friendly as his friend.

"Alex. What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Keyers. I ain't doin' nothing."

"It sounded like you were talking to the prisoner," Keyers replied harshly.

"I was just sayin' how he ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout so long as his friends do what they're told."

"Oh, is that so?" Keyers replied, approaching the table slowly. Daryl's eyes took in this man's form, trying to figure out just who he was, what he was about.

_..._

_Pow._

Keyer's fist met Alex's jaw before he knew what was coming to him. Alex stumbled forward before dropping onto his knees, onto the ground, hand covering his jaw, in pain. Before Alex could even recover, Keyers' foot gave Alex a good kick right in the gut. Alex fell over in pain before vomiting on the floor. Just when he thought he was okay, he felt Keyers' hands grab him by the back of his shirt, pulling him back up to Keyers' level.

He was shaking in fear as Keyers glared into his eyes.

"_**Unh.**_"

Keyers practically _slung_ Alex towards the wall, which Alex would have hit with full force had the bed not stopped his fall first. Alex's body fell over onto the bed, sideways, and he fell over it, his head hitting the floor as his body slid off. Intense pain throbbed throughout Alex's body. He could hear Keyers' footsteps. Keyers was walking towards him. _No, not again._

Keyers glared down at Alex, once more looking at him in the eyes.

"No more talking," Keyers ordered.

"Y-y-yes sir," Alex managed.

Keyers turned and started walking towards the door. He stopped as he reached the door frame, turning to glare back at Daryl. Daryl's face was one of... Discomfort. Not fear, but discomfort for sure. Keyers smirked. Daryl was speechless, unsure what he should say or do as the door closed, and once more, darkness returned to the room.

/

Rick really had no idea what to say.

He had received T-Dog's transmission loud and clear. T-Dog had followed the figure he saw in the darkness through the woods. After awhile, T-Dog lost track of the figure, and started back when he stumbled into a trap. _A hole, dug in the middle of the ground – deep – covered in camouflage._ T-Dog had been there, on the ground, in pain, when he called Rick.

He waited for Rick. He was overall okay, lucky considering he'd fallen several feet. The hole was too deep to get himself out of. He'd need help. He just hoped whoever had dug this trap wouldn't find him first. Only, it was a few minutes after he'd fallen that he heard a noise. No. He heard a voice.

"Who's out there?" T-Dog called out.

"I could say the same to you!" the voice replied – a male voice.

"I asked first," T-Dog came back.

"Actually, I did," a third voice, also male, spoke. "You didn't hear me."

"I'm just... I'm a **friend**. I don't want any trouble. I saw something moving through the woods, and I followed it. Can you let me out of here?"

"Oh, believe me, friend. I would let you out if I could," the second voice came back.

"Well, why can't you?" T-Dog asked.

"We're stuck too," the third voice said, "In another hole."

"Why the hell would anyone dig two trap holes right next to each other?" T-Dog questioned.

"Long story," the second voice replied, "I'll tell you all about it later. Were you calling for help, earlier? Do you have some sort of phone?"

"Yeah, I've got a radio," T-Dog replied, "Help's on the way."

"Oh, good," the second voice replied, "Listen, we'll be happy to help you however we can. We've been trapped down here for days."

"Trapped?" T-Dog asked.

"Yeah, well," the third voice came back, "Like he said. It's a long story."

T-Dog was about to respond, when he heard a voice come on through the radio – not Rick's. In fact, it wasn't anyone he recognized.

"**I want to speak to whoever's in charge.**"

"Hey, that voice," the second voice expressed, surprised.

"It sounds like... Samuel," the third voice confirmed.

/

"This is Rick Grimes. I'm in charge," Rick replied over the radio.

He had just been about to leave to go find T-Dog when the message came through. Maggie and Beth were just getting back to camp, and everyone was silent, following Rick's orders, trying to stay warm by the camp fire. Everyone listened with earnest to hear the mysterious voice on the walky-talky.

"**Do you have the girl?**"

"Who am I speaking to?" Rick replied.

"**DO YOU HAVE THE GIRL!?"** the voice shouted back.

"Yeah. Yeah, we've got the girl. Do you have my man?"

"**The girl. The girl, and both of our people for yours."**

"I said we have the girl. We don't have any of your people."

"**STOP FUCKING WITH ME!**" the voice shouted. "**Our people. The girl will know where they are. If you want your friend back, you'll give them to us. Tomorrow, eleven AM. Town square.**"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Rick questioned. "What's to say you won't just try to kill us all on the spot?"

The voice was silent for a bit.

"Are you still there?" Rick asked.

"**Hold on.**"

...

A different voice now.

"_**Hello, Rick."**_

"How do you know my name? Who the hell _are_ you?" Rick replied.

"_**Listen up, Rick. My name's Michael. I'm going to give you back your man, if you honor your side of the agreement, but just so we're clear here. Every time you fuck up, and don't play by the rules, that's a strike for you. And every time you fuck up, I start cutting away on your friend. First, I'll rip his eyes out of his sockets and let you listen to his screams. Then, I'll start sawing off his toes. And I'll keep sawing until I have what I want. Are we clear?**_"

"Crystal," Rick replied.

"_**Good. I'm glad we had this little chat, Rick. Get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow.**_"

Rick put the radio down, letting the conversation he'd just had sink in. What kind of people were they dealing with? These guys weren't normal – they were psychotic. There was absolutely no way to guarantee anyone's safety. Rick knew about guys like this – guys like Michael. Guys like Shane. And guys like that wouldn't hesitate to kill everything in sight.

Glancing around at the frightened expressions of those around him, he nodded at them, a serious look on his face.

"Everyone get some sleep. In the morning, we go to war."

...

In the hours that had followed, T-Dog had been retrieved from the trap hole he had been in, as well as the two guys in the trap adjacent to his. The holes had been built by Meagan's camp, and the two guys in the other hole were Michael's men. Rick had gathered the information he needed from them before putting them back in their hole, and putting Meagan in the other.

Maggie and Beth had made it back to the camp safely. They didn't tell the others about the source of water – a spring of sorts – they'd found. Not yet. It wasn't necessarily that they were keeping it a secret, just more so that they'd forgotten about it what with everything else going on. _War._ What a terrifying word.

Rick was keeping guard over the prisoners, and back at the camp, T-Dog was on guard. Daylight was nearing, and when it came, it'd be time to take action. But what action would be taken? Rick wasn't sure what the best course of action _was_. But he knew that Michael and his men were dangerous – like Shane – and they were a threat to Daryl.

As if reading his thoughts, Meagan, who was still awake and curled up in her hole, spoke out to Rick above.

"You know, you can't trust Michael. The moment you hand us over, your man's dead, and he'll kill all of you as well."

"I'm not going to let that happen," Rick replied.

Meagan let out a laugh. "Yeah? You and your little rag-band group of survivors are going to go up against Michael and all of his camp? You don't know these bastards like I do. Most of them are ex-military – vets from Iraq, Afghanistan. This whole zombie apocalypse? This is the kind of things they are _trained_ for. They're trained to _survive_."

"And what do you suggest?" Rick scoffed. "We fight them? You said it yourself. We're nothing compared to them."

"You should forget about your man. He's as good as dead anyway."

"That's **not** happening," Rick replied, "_I __**refuse**_ to leave anyone else behind. We've lost too many people already."

"In that case," Meagan replied, "Your only option is to fight. But you can't do it alone. You need help."

"Oh, yeah," Rick laughed, "Help from you? The moment I let you out of there, you'll make a run for it. Thanks, but I don't need your help."

"**WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM!?" **she yelled, "They **killed** my people! **TWO** of my people! I'm going to fight them with every last bit of energy I've got, rather you chose to join me or not."

"You think _you_ can beat them?"

"I told ya, didn't I? I got my own camp waitin' on me."

"And your camp's prepared to… go to _war_ against these guys?"

"I can have them ready in an hour, if you let me go now," Meagan replied.

Rick was silent, thinking… He didn't want to rely on this woman. But he knew… She could be their only shot.

~-~-~.

The sun was coming up, and everyone was up now, preparing for the day ahead. Rick would be back any minute now, and when he did, if what he'd said last night were true, they were in for one hell of a day. What had he meant last night? When he'd said that the group was going to war?

It wasn't long before they heard from Rick. The group was gathered around the camp fire, mostly quiet, when Rick radio'd in.

"This is Rick. Anyone up?"

"Go ahead, Rick," Hershel replied.

"I'm going to negotiate with Meagan's camp and see if they can help us rescue Daryl. If I'm not back in an hour, and you can't reach me over the radio, leave us and get out of this area as quickly as you can."

Hershel looked over at the rest of the group before standing, walking away from the fire, out of ear shot of everyone else.

"Rick, are you sure this is the wisest idea?"

"I'm not sure if wise is how I would describe this," Rick replied, "But I do know that we're going to need a hell of a lot more firepower if we want to pose a fight against these guys."

"Okay, Rick," Hershel replied, "I'll take care of things here."

"That's fine."

Hershel turned, walking back towards the group.

"T-Dog. You should try to get some sleep. Glenn. Maggie. You two are on patrol. Carol, Lori, try to make sure most of our supplies are loaded up so we can get out of here as quickly as possible. Carl, we need more firewood. Take Beth with you. I'm going to get some medical supplies ready… We might need them."

-~./~.~

_Prisoner transport_ wasn't exactly a new concept to Rick Grimes. He'd done it enough times before to know the ins and outs – and while he didn't exactly have a police car, Paul's Acura was enough to suffice. Meagan was securely tied up in the back seat, hands behind her back and interlocked with the seat-belt. Rick, of course, was driving.

Meagan kept mostly silent, and Rick largely preferred it this way. With the morning sun rising above their head, they were on the country road that ran between Rick's camp and the prison holes. They were headed in the opposite direction as the town nearby, back the way Rick's group had come. They kept going till they were about five miles away from the camp.

"Turn here," Meagan directed, and Rick slowed down before taking a left onto the grass of a large pasture. As per her directions, Rick began to drive through the pasture, over bumpy terrain, up and down a few hills. After quite a bit of driving, they made it to another road on the other side of the pasture – a dirt road, which Rick pulled onto.

Driving down the dirt road for a good four miles, Rick came to a make-shift intersection of sorts.

"Turn left," Meagan instructed.

Rick did so, driving east now, further and further away from the camp. The dirt road had a few abandoned farm houses on it, a church, and an old meat house. After driving another good three miles, the dirt road finally ended, with nothing but forest ahead.

"We have to go the rest of the way on foot," Meagan explained.

"How far in?" Rick asked.

"A mile, maybe two."

"How do I know your people aren't waiting there to ambush me?"

"You don't."

-.~.-

Glenn and Maggie were used to keeping watch by now. It was a simple process. Walk around the perimeter of the camp. Listen for zombies. Watch. Keep your eyes opened. Don't get distracted. The last part was usually the hardest. Still, they did what they were told, and tried to do a good job.

"Where were you two last night?" Glenn asked as they came to the edge of the tree-line, near the road, before turning and walking beside the road.

"What do you mean?" Maggie asked innocently.

"When you and Beth went into the woods."

"Gosh, Glenn. Do you need to know _every little thing _I do?"

"I was just worried, Mags. You two were gone for awhile."

It was true. They had been gone longer than expected – they'd found that spring, after all. Maggie didn't quite want to tell Glenn about it yet. But the truth was, she wanted to _show_ Glenn, a little later. The others didn't know about it, and she was hoping later, maybe she and Glenn would get the time to do a little _bathing._

Maggie was about to say something else when they heard the screaming begin.

...

**8:30 AM**

**Meagan's Camp**

Meagan's camp was not a long walk from the end of the dirt road where Rick left the Acura. Deciding that it arguably wasn't the best idea to walk up to Meagan's camp with the woman's hands tied behind her back, Rick had freed her. Keeping her word, she had led him the short distance through the woods towards her camp. Rick had to hand it to her and her men – there camp was well hidden.

Rick didn't know what to expect as Meagan led him to a small field on the other side of the woods they'd just trekked to. The field seemed to be the most random thing you could expect to find – it was surrounded by trees and didn't look like a very good place for farming. But at some time or another, for some reason, someone had cleared the trees that had once been here, making this field. It sort of baffled Rick, but he could not deny that strategically, it was an excellent place to make a camp.

The camp itself was more of a tent city. Rick had been expecting to find maybe ten other guys waiting here. Instead, he'd been surprised to see tent after tent set up in this field, with a massive number of men, women, and children hustling about. He estimated that there were probably close to a hundred people in this field. How this group managed to feed that many people, Rick could not fathom. His own group was having trouble just finding enough food for the few of them.

And they looked ready for war, too. Meagan led Rick down a small aisle between tents, towards a larger tent than the rest towards the back of the camp. As they passed through the small tent city, Rick noticed that the group truly was prepared to fight a war. He could see a few men carrying a whole bunch of guns from one tent to another. In the distance at the edge of the field, beyond the tents, he caught a glimpse of some men in camouflage running laps, training. Maybe Rick had made the right decision after all.

He tried to ignore the odd glances he was getting. A few people greeted Meagan fondly as they passed by the masses. Finally, they reached the large tent at the back of the camp. Pulling back the entrance to the tent, Meagan motioned for Rick to enter first, which he hesitantly did. Meagan followed behind. Inside the tent, a series of tables were set up with papers – maps, it looked like – scattered throughout them. A few people were inside at the tables, working. Meagan approached one in particular – a bald, skinny, older man who was standing near the back of the tent.

"Evans," Meagan greeted the man, wrapping him in a long hug.

"Meagan," he replied, delighted to see the woman. "You have returned to us. We feared the worst when Paul did not return. Is he with you?"

Meagan broke the hug, a frown on her face. She looked up at Evan with hurt eyes, and he seemed to realize that Paul was not with her. Sadness came across his face as he looked down at the ground.

"I see. That is... really too bad."

"We've got to fight him, Evans," Meagan responded, determination in her voice. "You see that now, right?"

"Yeah," Evans replied. "Yeah, you're right. Michael's got to be stopped."

"I brought someone who can help us," Meagan replied, motioning towards Rick. "This is Rick Grimes. He was a cop."

"Uh. Deputy, actually."

"Yeah. Right. Deputy," Meagan corrected herself. "Michael took one of his men. He's ready to fight back."

"Is that so, son?" Evans replied, glancing over at Rick.

"Yeah," Rick replied, unsure. "Yeah, that's about right."

"Then you're in the right place."

**Rick's Camp**

_Running._

Glenn and Maggie hauled ass back to the camp site the minute they heard the screams. It sounded like Beth. _Oh, Lord, please protect her_ was all Maggie could think as the lovers arrived at the chaotic scene of the camp site. When they arrived, they could see a scared Beth, crying as Carol comforted her by the fire, trying to calm her down. Carl and Hershel were both armed, at alert, glancing out into the forest at some sight unseen.

Maggie rushed over to Beth to make sure her baby sister was okay as Glenn ran towards Hershel, readying his own firearm.

"What happened!?" Glenn demanded.

"Bethy says she saw a man staring at her," Hershel replied, "In the woods."

"We have to go after him!" Carl insisted, "He's getting away."

"Not so fast," Hershel replied, holding out his hand to stop Carl. "We don't know how many of them are out there, or even where they are."

"We can't just do nothing!"

"We're not doing nothing," Hershel explained, "We're _staying alive. _I'll radio Rick and we'll move the camp to a more secure location."

Carl let out a frustrated sigh but did not rebut Hershel's decision.

**Michael's Compound**

Daryl hadn't gotten much sleep. At some point, Alex had let Daryl move to the bed, which was a lot more comfy than the chair he'd been in before. Daryl pretended to be sleeping, but he wasn't really. He was actually slowly moving his hands across the rails of the bed frame that he was tied to, trying to cut into the rope that binded his hands together. He had to get out of here. And now was the time to make his escape, while Alex's guard was down.

At least, this had been his plan. But at some point or another, his body just could not stay awake anymore. Between the injuries from two days ago and the pain his body felt from the discomfort of the last few hours, he eventually passed out for real. But when he came to, he was awakened to quite a shock. No, he had not been expecting _this_ at all.

When he came to, Alex was no longer in the room. But a cute brunette of about twenty years of age was in the room. In his bed. With no clothes. Wait, what?

"Um, excuse me," Daryl quietly drew the attention of the woman, who was otherwise... preoccupied... down to Daryl.

"Oh," she let out a timid reply, blushing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm.. uh.. Pleasuring you."

"No, I can see that," Daryl replied. "I mean, why are you doing that?"

"Because I was told to," she replied, a bit of shame coming to her voice. "Because they would kill me if I did not."

Daryl couldn't make sense of this. Why would these people, who had taken Daryl as a prisoner, order this woman to have sex with him? How did that make _any_ sense? It seemed like something right out of a dirty movie. And where was that man – Alex – who had been guarding Daryl? Right now, he just needed to escape, but he was a little pinned down at the moment.

"Look, don't get me wrong, ma'am," Daryl explained, "But, uh... Can you tell me what the hell is going on right here?"

"This is Michael's insurance," the woman explained.

"Who the hell is Michael?" Daryl replied.

"The man in charge here," she explained.

"What does this bastard want with me?"

"I don't know," she replied. "All I know is that he ordered me to... come wake you up."

"Why?"

"Probably because I'm one of the girls who've been put in isolation."

"Iso...lation?"

"Yeah. All the girls with diseases are put in isolation."

"Disease... like... swine flu?" Daryl asked hopefully.

"Herpes."

Daryl started screaming like a little girl.

**Meagan's Camp**

"Meagan means well. She really does," Evans explained as he and Rick started walking away from the tent city, towards the edge of the field they were in.

"Yeah, well, she has a funny way of showing it," Rick protested.

"Her methods can be a little... aggressive."

"Yeah, holding a caravan at gun point is more than a little aggressive. One of my people could have been hurt."

"And one of our people _was_ hurt, by you," Evans reminded Rick. "Not just hurt. Killed. Paul was a good man. His parents live here, in the camp. How do you think they will feel when they learn that their son was killed?"

"With all due _respect,_" Rick replied, "He was killed trying to run _my_ people off the road."

"You're right about that," Evans replied, "It was his own fault. But a man is still dead. We must remember that, respect him for the life he lived. That's what makes us different than the Walkers – our ability to feel. To love. If we lose that, we're just like them – searching for food like brainless zombies, doing whatever it takes to survive."

"Something tells me Michael does not feel the same way."

"Michael is... a different kind of man. Trust me. I know. He... He has done things... Seen things... It changed him, what he went through."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this man," Rick replied.

Evans nodded. "Michael and I served overseas together. Hell, he was like a son to me. When the outbreak began, I was living a few counties over. I met up with Paul and Meagan, back when they were just getting started. I had no idea that I'd run into Michael here, or that this was what he'd become."

"Do you really think you can go into battle against someone who's like a son to you?" Rick asked.

"It's _because_ I'm so close to Michael that I have to fight him," Evans explained, "I know how dangerous he is... And I know what he could do if he's not stopped. He's _psychotic_, Rick. And if he is allowed to have free reign over this county, well, it will send him _completely_ over the edge. He won't stop there. He'll keep expanding, keep growing his forces. He'll take this whole damn state if he gets the chance."

"Look," Rick replied as the two reached the edge of the field and started to turn around. "My wife is pregnant. Most of my people are... Not fighters. They're not trained to fight a war. Especially not if Michael is as... dangerous as you say he is. We'll help you so we can get our friend back. After that, we're getting the hell out of here. I hope you understand."

"I figured you would say that," Evans replied, nodding. "I'm not asking you to give up everything you have. But before you make any decisions, let me show you around the camp. Introduce you to the people there. Okay?"

"I don't think tha-"

Static came through Rick's radio, followed by a voice.

"Rick," it insisted. Hershel's voice.

Rick grabbed his radio, holding it up to his mouth. "Go ahead."

"We spotted a man in the woods, possibly one of Michael's. He was spying on the camp. He got away."

Rick felt a chill go down his spine. Michael was _spying_ on Rick's own wife and kids now. Damn. How could Rick have been so naive? Why hadn't he moved the camp when Daryl got abducted? Rick felt like kicking himself in the ass. Lori and Carl could have been hurt. Or worse.

"Sounds like you could use a place to stay," Evans suggested.

"We couldn't poss-"

"Rick. Think of your people. Think of your wife. This is the safest place in the county right now."

Rick paused. Hesitantly, he held the talk button on the radio.

"Hershel. Load up the camp and meet me at the pasture a mile down from the camp."

This was personal now.

...

**Day 3's Conclusion**

**December 23rd**

On a hill, overlooking the massive forest that dominated much of this land, stood two men. From this hill, they could see for miles. The trees below, their limbs gently shaking with the wind. The sound of the birds chirping nearby. The roar of the massive creek that ran through the county. It was truly a beautiful sight to see. But today, a darkness was glooming from the hill top.

"Michael. The men are waiting for your command."

Keyers stood behind Michael, trying not to disturb the man. Michael was a startling sight to see. Not because he had an intimidating form – he really did not. In fact, Michael was so... scary precisely because he _did not_ look like a killer. He looked like a perfectly normal man, his brown hair curly, a mustache growing upon his face. He couldn't have been much older than thirty, and his body was muscular, sure, but not like that of a body builder.

It wasn't Michael's appearance that set people off. It was his demeanor.

He did not respond to Keyers' statement, and Keyers slowly wandered off. A moment later, Michael heard Samuel, his right-hand-man, approach behind him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Michael asked, without turning to meet his friend.

"I... suppose," Samuel replied quietly. He wasn't much for sight seeing.

"Take a hard look, Samuel," Michael commanded, "This is what we're fighting for. This is what we're fighting to control. There's a war looming. A great storm is coming. I can feel it _in my bones._ But you and me, Samuel. We are destined to win this war. It is our _fate_, to lead these men into battle, and we shall ravage all things we touch. And when we win, we shall claim our true places as _**KINGS**_ in this new world. It's the most important law in nature. Only the strongest will survive. We are the strongest, Samuel. And. **We. Will. Survive.**"

After all, Michael thought. It was their destiny.

A wide smile spread upon his face as he and Samuels turned and made their way back down the massive hill. At the bottom of the hill, a massive caravan of trucks, jeeps, and even one tank awaited them. A large, red, dirt road was before them, its destination of the upmost importance to these men. This road was the road to glory. This road... Was the road to war.

As Michael and Samuel approached, a few men dressed in black vests and camouflage approached them, including Keyers. Michael looked upon the men proudly. These brave men had volunteered their time, their lives, their blood to the cause of making a new world. It started here, he had told them. It started with this county. But soon, they would spread throughout all lands. They would restore order to this world. And they would be the new knights of it, the heroes who had given it all to make this new world order. They would be kings among men, responsible for ushering in a new age of human history. That was what Michael had told these men.

"Keyers," Michael ordered, "Take Reyes and Charlie's teams and attack the camp."

"Yes, sir," Keyers replied. "And what about the hostage?"

"We may still need him. Have your men take him to the bridge but keep him alive until I give the order. I am leaving him in your hands. I can trust you. Right, Keyers?"

"You can trust me, sir."

"Good. Now go. Eleven o'clock will be upon us soon."

Indeed it would. With only an hour and a half until the meeting at town square was scheduled to go down, there was a lot of preparations to be made between now and then.

**Rick's Camp**

"Okay. Is everyone packed up?" Hershel asked as Carol carried the last box of supplies to the Hyundai.

"I think we're ready, Hershel," Glenn responded, squeezing Maggie's hand reassuringly. Maggie had one hand clinging to Glenn's and the other wrapped around a still shook-up Beth. Hershel was angry – furious, actually, of course, but he wouldn't show his anger right now. He was angry at Michael. And he would show his anger on the battlefield. For now, he had to be a leader and help Rick.

Which meant getting these people to safety.

"T-Dog," Hershel demanded, "You take the Chevy. Take Lori, Beth, and Carl with you. Glenn, you and Maggie go with Carol in the Hyundai. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled on the road ahead and your firearms ready... Stay safe. And stay together. Rick will find us. We will be okay if we stay together. Am I clear?"

A string of "yes sirs" followed.

"Good. Let's go."

Everyone began to load up into the vehicles, prepared to head towards the place Rick had instructed them to meet him. As Carl started to pass by Hershel, the older man stopped him, looking down at the boy who was slowly becoming a man. Handing Carl a shotgun, Hershel had a serious look on his face as he studied Carl.

"You take care of my daughter, okay? That's your job until all of this is over. Can you handle that for me?"

Pride swelled up in Carl. He was being given responsibility. Hershel was trusting him with this. Suddenly, he felt like, for a split second, this was sort of what it meant to be a man. Not knowing how to fix a motorcycle or how to pick up women. It was being able to take care of what was important to you that made you a man. Carl proudly took the shotgun from Hershel, nodding, a serious look on his face.

"You can count on me, Hershel," he told the man.

"Good. Now get going," Hershel said, patting Carl on the back, "I trust you."

"What about you, Hershel?"

The older man grinned like a boy. "I've got my own ride."

**The Pasture**

Rick hadn't had time to meet Meagan's people just yet. He'd made his way as quickly as possible back to the pasture. A big, burly black man named Jackson had come with Rick, and with him, he'd brought an M16. How this group had managed to obtain M16s, Rick wasn't really sure, but right now, he was thankful they had. So, they waited in the pasture in Paul's beat up Acura, their eyes peeled on the road in front of them, the road that Paul had lost his life on. The road that Meagan had held Rick's group at gunpoint on. This road had caused Rick quite a bit of trouble over the last few days.

Neither Rick nor Jackson spoke. Rick got the feeling that Jackson wasn't a talker, which suited Rick just fine. They just sat, waiting. By now, the morning sun had long ago risen and the time was approaching that Rick would have to meet Michael, face-to-face. When that happened, Rick wanted to be prepared. So, the sooner his group got here, the sooner they could get back to Meagan's camp and work out a plan. Rick found himself tapping his foot impatiently.

Jackson was the first one to break the silence. Rick could hear hurt in his voice and wondered what he'd been through over the last few months.

"Your friend," Jackson said, "Daryl, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Rick replied. "Yeah, that's right."

"I hope you get him back."

Rick nodded, deep in thought, somewhat moved by the short few words that Jackson had provided Rick. Carol had shown him the letter she found in the Acura – the one Meagan had written for Paul a week or so ago. It had mentioned that Paul should find Jackson for help if he was successful in raiding a group of by-standards on the road.

"I'm sorry about Paul," Rick offered. "I don't know if you were close with him or not. But from what I hear, he was a great man. He didn't deserve to die."

"Paul was doing what it took for us to survive," Jackson explained. "In a camp with one hundred and twenty three people, it's hard to feed everyone. Meagan tries her hardest to find good hunting grounds that aren't controlled by Michael and his men, but they've started to expand to the nearby counties now too. And moving this many people more than thirty miles at the most? That's not easy – not by a long shot. Paul didn't like doing what he was doing, but we have people going hungry in our camp."

Jackson continued. "That's why this war with Michael is so important. He killed two of our own. He's threatening to kill us all. He's hoarding the only food around for miles and refuses to share his hunting ground. We figured if we could find enough food to last us a few weeks, we might be able to move south, away from Michael and his men. But until we are able to move that many people, we've got to survive. That's what this war is about. Our survival."

Rick was a bit taken a back. Maybe Jackson wasn't so quiet after all. As Rick sat there, absorbing everything Jackson had just said, he silently said a prayer. He wasn't a very religious person, but right now, he felt like there was a God in the sky looking out for him. Sure, the group had experienced their hardships so far. The CDC in Atlanta. Hershel's farm being overrun. All the people they'd lost – Dale, Shane, Andrea. But still.

They were alive. They had food. And they had each other. And Rick knew that having each other was the most important thing for them right now. Survival, yes, that was necessary. But in order to survive, they needed each other. They needed to be a family, to support each other. To stand beside one another. And that meant not leaving anyone behind. Rick knew now that they would have to fight. They would have to fight to survive, just like this camp. Only, for Rick and his camp, their survival wasn't about food. It was about family. It was about saving Daryl and keeping the group together.

Rick suddenly knew what the right thing to do was.

**The Bridge**

The bridge wasn't anything special. Just a small bridge, probably no more than twelve feet long, it ran over the creek stream which ran through this county. It was also one of the only roads into the county south of Michael's hunting grounds. Just up ahead past the bridge another three miles was the county line, the edge of Michael's domain. For now.

This was where Alex had taken Daryl, as per Keyer's instructions. The creek below was particularly turbulent today, and it was a long way down from the bridge to the creek. One jeep and a large transport truck – an eighteen wheeler - made their way onto the bridge, slowing down once they reached it and halting. Out of the eighteen wheeler, Alex stepped out and started walking towards the trailer attached to the truck.

Opening the door to the trailer, he peered inside to see Daryl, hands tied and just the way he'd been left. Climbing up into the trailer, Alex approached the redneck who was sitting on his knees. He looked up at Alex distastefully. Their eyes locked as Alex contemplated what to do with Daryl. As he stood there in thought, to his surprise, Daryl reached over and... Bit Alex in the leg.

"OUCH! YOU SONUVA BITCH!" Alex hollered out as a few men came running over to the trailer, looking inside.

"HE BIT ME!" Alex declared, pulling back towards the trailer's entrance. "Get him out here," Alex demanded of the men, who obediently climbed inside the truck to retrieve Daryl as Alex went to tend to his wound.

**The Country Road – Near Rick's Camp**

Rick's group made their way onto the road, driving the half mile down the road from the camp-site at the edge of the treeline, along the hill which Glenn had rolled down the first day they'd been here. When they got to the part of the road where the ground flattened out, they drove onto the road and started to drive towards the pasture where they were supposed to meet Rick. It was only a few miles down the road.

Hershel was leading the group, riding Daryl's motorcycle of all things. Behind him, T-Dog was driving the Suburban, his eyes constantly switching from the road ahead to his mirrors. In the seat next to him, Lori had her grip on a shotgun, ready to fire if needed. In the back seat, Carl was doing his best to be brave for Beth and to do what Hershel had told him to do. Beth sat in the seat next to him, trying not to be scared herself.

"Good lord, who knew the man could ride a motorcycle?" Lori asked, trying to break the tension a bit.

"Heh," Beth replied, giving herself a much needed break from worrying, "Daddy used to own a motorcycle. Mama made him give it up, said it was dangerous."

"She was right," Lori replied, "That thing's a death trap. If Rick ever tried to buy one, I would let him hear it, that's for sure."

Meanwhile, behind the Suburban, Glenn was driving the Hyundai. He kept trying to do his best to go with the flow of traffic ahead, but he was nervous. When he was nervous, he tended to drive fast. It was a bad habit of his. Today, he felt like a race-car driver.

Maggie could tell that Glenn was nervous. She lightly brushed her hand over Glenn's arm from the passenger seat. Glenn let out a sigh, trying to relax. She knew him well. They'd only been together for a few months, but Glenn felt himself falling for Maggie with every passing day. He remembered what Hershel had told him... How Glenn was part of the family now. Glenn tried to relax, for Maggie's sake, but it wasn't easy.

"Hey," she told him calmly, "It's all going to be okay."

"You're right," Glenn replied, trying to reassure himself and her. "Everything will be alright. Rick will make sure we're safe. Right?"

"Yeah," Carol snorted from the back seat, "Just like he made us feel safe when he killed Shane, or when he didn't tell us that these... these _things_... that we're all infected.."

Silence.

"Sorry," Carol muttered, "You're right. Rick will know what's best... I hope."

"Hey," Glenn changed the topic, urgency in his voice as he looked in the rear-view mirror, "Is that... Oh no. Not again."

Fear spread in Maggie's eyes as she looked out one of the side mirrors and saw what Glenn had spotted. Behind them, in the distance but growing closer all too quickly, there was at least one black vehicle – possibly more.

"Oh, shit," Maggie muttered, "GLENN. DRIVE. FAST. HURRY. HONK YOUR HORN. DO SOMETHING."

Glenn frantically began to honk his own, to flash his lights, trying to get the others' attention as he shifted in the lane a bit to allow T-Dog a better view at the road behind Glenn. T-Dog spotted it, too, after a bit, and so did Hershel. There was another car behind them. And it was catching up to them. Fast.

"Hold on. Tight," Glenn insisted to Maggie and Carol as they all made sure their seat belts were tight. All three vehicles began to speed up – fast. As fast as possible. They just needed to make it a little bit further and they would be at the pasture. But then what? Who knew how many cars were behind them. And if it was Michael's group behind them, the last thing they wanted was to lead that group to Meagan's camp.

But it didn't matter. Before the thought of, "What do we do when we get to the pasture?" even had a chance to register in their minds, the two trucks behind them had caught up. They were right behind Glenn's Hyundai and he could see the two trucks riding side by side behind him. And then, one of the two trucks sped up a little bit faster, riding beside Glenn while the other trailed behind him.

They were boxing Glenn in.

"Glenn," Maggie urgently said, eyes locked on the vehicle riding only inches away from Glenn.

"Not the best time, Mags," Glenn replied, eyes locked on the road ahead.

"Glenn. Lean back."

"What?"

"Lean back," Maggie insisted, holding up her shotgun. Glenn leaned his head back against the driver's seat headrest, trying not to be nervous as Maggie aimed her gun at the car riding beside them.

"You might want to cover your ears, Carol," Maggie insisted.

Glenn, who's hands were on the steering wheel, gulped, readying himself for the deafening sound of a shotgun going on right next to him, for the feeling of the air in front of him moving as a bullet passed by. Glenn rolled down the window for the driver's seat and Maggie fired a round at the car next to them. To her delight, it was a successful shot as the vehicle that had been riding beside them ran off the road and crashed.

One down, one to go.

But before Maggie even had a chance to reload, the truck behind them lightly bumped into the Hyundai, roughly jerking the group inside around. Just a small tap, but still. Glenn floored the gas, trying to put some distance between him and the truck behind him as Maggie fumbled with her gun, trying to reload as quickly as possible.

_Tap_.

The truck hit them again, this time a bit rougher. Glenn kept driving.

Then, the truck backed off a bit... But Glenn was not relieved. Because he could hear the truck revving up behind him now, and he knew that the driver of the truck was about to go full speed and probably ram into him. Glenn didn't know what to do. He saw the truck shoot forward in his rear-view mirror. Oh no. No. No.

"Guys, hold on. Maggie, I l-"

_Pow._

To the surprise of all three adults, someone had successfully shot into the truck's tires. But it hadn't been Maggie. The three watched as the driver of the truck behind them lost control of his vehicle and the truck flipped over on the road. Glenn let out a sigh of relief. They had survived. He was surprised when he looked forward and saw Lori hanging out the shotgun seat window of the Suburban, a shotgun in her hand and a proud look upon her face.

"That... was a close one," Glenn stated as Maggie and Carol just nodded.

**The Pasture**

A look of relief came across Rick's face when he saw his group approaching. He and Jackson both stepped out of the car, ready to greet them. Rick became a little more concern when he saw the look on their faces. He could see a very serious look on Hershel's face. Behind him, he could see a worried look on Lori's face as well. He didn't like that look.

As Hershel pulled up towards Rick, he just shook his head. T-Dog and Glenn stopped behind him.

"Everyone's safe," Hershel assured Rick. "Two vehicles tried to run us off the road."

Rick glanced over at Jackson.

"Everyone's accounted for back at the camp," Jackson assured them, "Sounds like it was Michael."

"Alright. We ought to go check it out," Rick replied.

"No," Hershel replied firmly, looking at Rick. "You've got to get these people to safety first, Rick."

"Yeah," Rick replied. He nodded his head, affirming the thought. "Yeah, you're right. We'll take everyone to the camp and then come back," Rick decided.

"You go ahead back to camp," Jackson insisted. "I need to go make sure there's nobody trailing behind who could find the camp."

"Are you sure?" Rick replied.

"Yeah. I'll be fine," Jackson replied.

"Here," Hershel insisted, "Take this."

Parking the motorcycle and standing up, Hershel looked over at Jackson.

"I appreciate it," he said simply, nodding his head at Hershel before walking over to the motorcycle and mounting it. "I'll meet you guys back at the camp."

"Stay safe," Rick insisted.

As Jackson rode off to investigate the vehicles that had tried to run the group off the road, Rick motioned for the others to follow him and got back into the Acura. Hershel joined him in the Acura and the group began to take off towards Meagan's camp.

"Not a very talkative fellow, is he?" Hershel asked.

"Who. Jackson?" Rick replied. "No, he's not. But he seems like a good man to me."

Hershel was silent. He trusted Rick. He knew that Rick was the one who would lead them through this. But at the same time, he had to ask himself. Was Rick making the best decision right now? Could the group _trust_ Meagan and her camp? Hershel tried to shake these thoughts out of his mind. Right now, he needed to be a follower. He needed to support Rick however he could.

"So, what's the plan?" Hershel asked.

"Get back to camp," Rick replied, "Coordinate with Meagan's people. And get ready to go to war."

"Do you think we can fight them?" Hershel asked. "Michael and his men?"

"Meagan thinks we can. If we're smart about it. These guys may be vicious, but that's also their fatal flaw. They're like animals. Wild. Untamed. We have to outsmart them. That's the only way we're going to get Daryl back."

"Sounds like we've got a lot of work ahead of us, then," Hershel replied.

"That we do," Rick admitted. "That we do."

**The Bridge**

Daryl could feel the gun against his back. He could also feel Alex's angry glare from behind him. He knew that his chances weren't good. Right now, he was standing against a guard rail on the bridge. If he were to topple over right now, he would fall face-first into the creek below. And he also knew that there were probably ten well-armed men behind him right now ready to shoot him at any moment.

He considered his options. He could try to make a run for it – jump into the creek. He probably wouldn't survive. They'd shoot him the moment he hit the water. He really doubted he could outswim their guns. But what was his other option? Stay here and wait to be killed? Daryl shook his head. That wasn't an option.

But then, there was another possibility. He thought back to what had just transpired an hour ago, before they'd brought him here.

"_HERPES!?" Daryl demanded as the brunette stood up and began to get dressed. It was only now that Daryl realized he'd been freed of his restraints and could move freely. He sat up, eyes locked on the girl who had apparently just given him an STD._

"_Yeah," she replied, "It's not fun."_

"_Wait... What the hell!?"_

"_Oh, cool your horses. We didn't actually do it. You're safe."_

"_What? But. When I woke up, you were naked, and you were -"_

"_I wasn't... **with you**. Not all the way. Trust me. You would have woken up a lot sooner if we **actually **were having sex."_

"_But I thought you said-"_

"_Don't say it. There's a camera behind me. They can read your lips."_

_Daryl noticed the camera on the wall behind her. He looked back at the girl, still worried that he'd possibly been given an STD._

"_So, you're saying we didn't actually have sex."_

"_No. Michael occasionally has... enemies who he tries to give sexual diseases to. He's raided all the medical supplies in the area and is the only one for miles who has the supplies to treat it. But be warned. Michael's going to try to kill you. I'm almost certain of it. He just does this so that way they don't try to escape. So you wouldn't try to escape."_

"_That's insane," Daryl replied. "I would rather take my chances out there without treatment than come back to this lunatic."_

"_Yeah, it doesn't make much sense, does it?" the brunette replied, "I think, more than anything, Michael does it just to fulfill his own sadistic amusement."_

"_But you... you didn't actually... we didn't...?"_

"_I was an actress," she revealed, "Before... you know. Don't worry. You're safe. We didn't actually do it. But Michael will think we did."_

"_Thank you," Daryl replied, letting out a sigh of relief. "What's your name?"_

"_Dani," she replied, "What's yours?"_

"_Daryl," he replied. "Dixon."_

"_Huh," she replied, putting on her shirt. "Listen. I bet you probably think I'm... a lot of things right now. A slut. A prostitute. I don't know. But I'm not. Before the world went to hell, I was just a normal girl, trying to make my way through college while waiting tables. I didn't... I didn't ask for this."_

"_As far as I'm concerned, you're the girl who just risked her life to not give me a sexual disease."_

"_Yeah, well," Dani replied, "I just wish I'd been shown mercy when.. When it happened to me."_

"_Wait. You mean this.. Michael guy tried to... kill you too?"_

"_Yeah," she replied, "Me and the other girls too. It happened a few months after the outbreak. I was at the college, just ten miles north of here. Me and a bunch of my classmates had boarded up there and were trying to survive hoping – I don't know, hoping that help was on the way or something. That's when Michael and his men showed up._

"_When we first met them, they came driving up to the college with tanks and trucks, wearing military clothing, carrying guns, with medical supplies and food. We thought it was the military, coming to save us. We thought there was still order. Still... A United States government or something. We let them into our college, let them share our food, let them share our empty beds._

"_We still didn't realize at the time... That they weren't who they said they were. Then, a few nights after they arrived, I woke up in the middle of the night to shouting. A few minutes later, two of them bust into my room, gag both my roommate and myself, and drag us out of there, out to one of their trucks, and loaded us up like cattle – me and a bunch of other girls. When they took us outside to the trucks, I could see them lining up the guys who were resisting... And they shot them, cold dead. Execution style._

"_They brought us here, to this compound. Lined us up outside and all the men piled up nearby. Each one of them... they got to pick which one of us they wanted. Some of the people I'd called classmates, some of the guys I'd trusted with my life, joined Michael that night... They were right there with the rest of them, taking advantage of the girls they'd once called friends. I don't remember how many men raped me that night. All I know is that one of them gave me this disease._

"_I guess it was an accident or something, at least at first. Michael hadn't actually intended to spread a sexual disease among his own men or the women he'd just abducted. But when he found out what happened, he... He ordered for all of us to be killed. He loaded us up, took us to this... this bridge at the edge of the county. They lined us up to be slaughtered... I was about to die. I've never been as scared as I was on that day. And then, at the last moment, that man who was in here earlier... Alex. He managed to convince Michael to spare a few of us, convinced him that it would be useful having women with a sexually transmitted disease around, for times like this," Dani explained her story, fighting back tears as she shared with Daryl._

"_Alex did that?" Daryl replied, "Why?"_

"_His sister," Dani replied, "She was one of the ones who got the disease. He'd do anything to protect her."_

Daryl didn't have a lot of options right now. But if he wanted to survive, he needed to do something. Quick. It was a long shot, but it was all he had to go off right now. He needed to talk to Alex. He needed to convince Alex not to kill him. And to do that, he would have to sell his soul... He would have to offer Alex something which he _really_ didn't want to offer, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. He would have to help Alex.

But first, he had to get Alex alone. Which was precisely why he'd bit Alex earlier. Because what Alex's men hadn't heard after Daryl bit Alex was this:

"_I can help you save your sister. And the other girls too. My friends have weapons. We can break her out. But first, you've got to trust me."_

Daryl just hoped his words had gotten through to Alex. And it seemed that maybe they had, because after what seemed like an eternity of Daryl staring at the muddy water below, Alex spoke up from behind.

"I'm tired of waiting. I'm dealing with this son of a bitch myself."

"Alex, that's a bad idea. You should wait until Michael gives the order."

"Fuck that," Alex replied, "This son of a bitch had the audacity to _bite_ me."

Daryl smirked. "Why don't you go cry about it, you big baby?"

"What the hell did you just say to me, son!?"

"Maybe if you weren't such a pussy, you'd have the guts to do something about it."

"Alright, that's it," Alex retorted, "I'm taking this motherfucker out."

And that's when Alex pointed his gun at Daryl...

And he fired.

**Meagan's Camp**

As soon as Rick and his group had made it to Meagan's camp, Rick had joined Evans and Meagan in the big tent to talk strategy. Evans had introduced the group to a friendly family who were sleeping in a few tents near the big tent. The family consisted of an aging but friendly man named George who had lost much of his hair, his wife Lucille who was a pretty, brunette woman, George's father Vinny who was a kind old man, and George and Lucille's children – Rebecca, who was a blonde girl about Beth's age, and Jacob, a thirteen year old with dark, black hair.

Jacob had taken off with Carl to show him around, and Beth and Rebecca were now hanging out in Rebecca's tent. George and Lucille's tent was a bit larger. During the day, it acted as a living area, with a fold-able table and a few chairs set up inside it. Hershel, Lori, and Carol joined George and Lucille in their tent as George poured some tea for the group.

"Life's not bad here," George explained. "We've got it pretty good. We have a place to raise our kids, we have enough food to not go hungry most of the time. We keep men posted at every corner of the camp watching for the walkers. We're surviving."

"It looks like you're doing more than just that," Hershel remarked, taking the first sip of tea he'd had in days.

"Ah," Lucille replied, smiling, "You mean the guns."

"How did your camp come across all those weapons, anyway?" Carol asked.

A slightly serious look filled George's eyes but he still smiled as he sat down with his own cup of tea and looked over at the three guests sitting across from him, ready to tell the story, beaming with the excitement of a boy but the resolve of a man.

"We stole them."

"You... stole them?" Lori echoed.

"Yeah, stole them. From one of those... doomsday preppers."

"And you all made it out alive?" Lori replied, a bit surprised.

"Because of Paul," George replied. "He was smart like that. We found this guy's bunker. Crazy old man with enough guns to finance a small army. Unfortunately, he'd spent all that time collecting guns but hadn't gathered enough food or water. Paul was raiding a supermarket when this crazy old man comes in waving his M16 around with this crazy look in his eye.

"Paul talked to him, found out his story. And when he realized that this man was sitting on an entire cache of weapons, he convinced the man to take Paul back to his bunker. Once they were inside, Paul snuck up on the man from behind, knocked him out cold, tied him up, and called for help. We took his weapons... And then we shot him and never looked back."

Carol, Lori, and Hershel all looked at George, terrified as the man stared back at them with a very serious look on his face. These guys were... maniacs. They'd killed that old man and taken all of his weapons. That was... crazy. Who were they getting into bed with!?

That's when George started busting out laughing, as did Lucille. Hershel, Lori, and Carol were confused.

"You... should... have... seen," George said, in between his fits of laughter, "the look... on your faces!"

The three let out a collective sigh when they realized that these two were pulling their legs, but still, Hershel couldn't help but feel uneasy. Something was off about these people. Something was off about this entire camp. Hershel felt it. He felt it in his bones.

In Rebecca's tent, Beth sat happily on the comfortable mattress which lined the tent floor, sitting beside Rebecca. It felt nice for Beth to finally have someone her own age to talk to again. Rebecca had been a junior in high school when the walkers had started appearing. She reminded Beth a lot of herself. She liked the same music Beth liked, had read the same magazines Beth had read. Had the same celebrity crushes. It was nice, to be able to forget about the crazy, hellish world that they were living in, if only for a bit.

"So anyway, you're brother's adorable!" Rebecca told Beth.

"My brother?" Beth asked. Shawn...?

"Yeah. How cute is he!? I mean, a cowboy hat!?"

Oh.

"That's um," Beth replied, "That's not my brother."

"Oh," Rebecca replied, "Boyfriend?"

Beth frowned in disgust. "He's thirteen."

A knowing smile spread across Rebecca's face as she replied, "I get it. You're going after the old man."

"WHAT!? EW, GROSS! THAT'S MY DAD!" Beth shouted...

As Carl and Jacob were walking by the tent outside. They both stopped.

"What do you think they're talking about in there?" Carl asked, now confused.

Jacob shrugged. "Who knows. They're women."

Carl snorted and the two went on their way.

Meanwhile, T-Dog had made his way to the edge of the camp, doing a little investigating of his own. He silently walked around the perimeter of the camp, checking out the scene, before finding himself a stump near the forest that the group had come through to get to the camp. Staring out into the treeline, T-Dog found himself lost in thought. While everyone else was all running about doing whatever they were doing, T-Dog just wanted his truck back.

"Man, why the hell did they have to take my truck?" he asked himself silently. "Damn, man."

T-Dog was interrupted when he heard something move in the treeline. Alarmed, he readied his weapon, standing and getting ready to shoot at any walkers that might suddenly pop out of nowhere. He lowered his weapon when he saw Jackson emerge from the treeline, returning from his investigating. The two men said nothing. Something told him that he would like Jackson. Man, that motherfucker was as quiet as T-Dog was.

In the big tent, Rick was huddled over a map as Meagan pointed at a red circle drawn in one corner. "If we push them back to this hill and keep our reserves posted on its top, we should be able to surround them. The hill will give us a major advantage."

"It'll also make our men visible to the enemy," Rick countered, "If they know where we are, they'll know what we're planning."

"Leave that to my men," Evans replied from the other side of the room. He'd been silent for most of this conversation, but now gladly spoke up. "They'll be too busy fighting us to notice our men on top of the hill."

"It's risky," Rick complained.

"All good things require risks to be taken," Meagan countered. "Our men on the hill will be safe. As long as we push Michael's men northward from the forest, they will be out of visual range until it's too late for Michael's men to do anything. The trees will provide cover."

"And what about Michael?" Rick asked, "You really think he's going to be on the front lines?"

"I'll handle Michael," Meagan replied, fierce determination in her eyes. "He won't leave alive."

"I'm going with you," Rick replied.

"We need you to take the complex," Evans replied, "Let Meagan handle Michael."

"By yourself?" Rick asked her.

"I'm a big girl. I can handle him."

"She won't be alone," Evans assured Rick, "I should have seen the warning signs. I should have helped Michael, should have gotten him to a safer place... Mentally, I mean. Maybe if I would have gotten him some help before the walkers began killin' people, he would have been kinder. More normal, maybe. I can't help but feel like part of this is my fault."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Rick replied, silently remembering the pain he'd felt when he had to kill his own best friend. When he watched his _son_ put Shane's reanimated form down for good. That had been painful to watch. That had been painful to live through. Rick knew exactly how Evans was feeling. At least, he thought he did.

Rick was snapped out of his thoughts when T-Dog and Jackson entered the big tent.

"Did you find anything?" Rick asked Jackson.

Jackson nodded, holding out a wallet and handing it to Meagan. The woman opened it, glancing down at the Georgia drivers license inside it.

"No way," Meagan stated.

"What is it?" Evans asked, looking up from the desk he was now sitting at.

Meagan tossed him the wallet and he looked inside. A look of shock came across his face when he saw what was inside.

"It was Keyers," Evans revealed.

"Dead as a doornail," Jackson replied, "I saw him with my own eyes."

"Who's Keyers?" Rick asked.

"He was one of our guys," Evans explained, "Always was a bit off, if you ask me. Always going on about how many people he'd killed fighting in the war. Like he was bragging. He switched sides, joined Michael almost as soon as we arrived in this county. That's when we set up camp here, so he couldn't find us."

"So that confirms it," Rick replied, "Michael's men tried to kill my people."

"Charming fellow, isn't he?" Evans replied, smiling as he stood up. Rick was looking down at his fists which were slowly curling as his blood started to boil. He was interrupted when Evans walked over to him. "Come on, friend. Sitting here won't do anything. It's time for us to go get your friend back."

Rick nodded, standing, a determined look on his face. It was time to rescue Daryl.

**The Creek**

Daryl, as it turned out, didn't need rescuing after all. Alex, Daryl figured, had probably made it pretty convincing. But Daryl hadn't _actually_ been shot – the bullet hadn't even grazed him. But the moment the gunshot was fired, Daryl had toppled over – purposefully – into the creek below – and did his best to play dead as the stream carried his body away from the bridge.

That had been about twenty minutes ago now. Once Daryl was sure that he was out of sight from the bridge, he tried to move his body towards the shore. He was floating on his back, but his hands were still tied behind his back and he wasn't able to swim right now because of that. He needed to get his hands free. Kicking his feet, he managed to position his body so, for a moment, he was floating horizontally with the creek bank.

Setting his foot onto the creek bank, Daryl tried to anchor himself. It took him a few tries as the creek was strong, but eventually, he was able to get his legs onto the ground to anchor his upper-body which was still in the creek. Now came the hard part. Exerting as much effort as he could, Daryl tried to pull his upper-body up, against the current, so he was leaning against his legs. He let out a small groan of pain as his arms were under stress from the unnatural position he was in, and he extended his arms outward from his back to give him some relief.

Finally, with a bit more effort, Daryl managed to roll his body out of the water and onto the ground. Rolling over again so he was sitting up, Daryl looked around at his surroundings. He seemed to have floated quite a ways away from the bridge and was in the woods somewhere. He saw a large rock nearby and scooted over towards it, facing away from it. Running the rope which binded his hands across the rock, he tried to cut into it.

And it took him awhile, but after what seemed like an hour of trying to free himself, finally, he heard the snap of the rope behind him. His hands were free and he immediately brought them to a more comfortable place. He wanted more than anything to lay down and rest right now. But he couldn't afford to. He needed to find the others.

And he needed to free Dani and the other girls as well.

Daryl stood up and tried to collect himself when he heard rustling of leaves nearby. Now would have been a nice time to have his crossbow, but seeing as how he had no such crossbow, Daryl picked up the massive rock that was laying nearby. Footsteps. Growing closer. Just around the tree that Daryl was leaning against. Slowly, Daryl took a step backwards, ready to sneak up behind whoever was approaching...

And that's when he noticed it was a walker.

Daryl slammed the rock into the walker's head, knocking it into the ground. Gashing the rock into the walker's head, Daryl let out a sigh. With that taken care of, he stood and took one last look at the creek before him. Then, he stood and started to turn towards the woods...

When he saw the man in the suit standing there behind him.

**Town Square**

It was sort of funny, really. When the walkers started biting people, everyone kind of just stopped what they'd been doing. They'd left their old lives behind. Now, all that mattered to most people was surviving. But it was at places like this, in the town square of some random town in Georgia, that you could truly see how true that was. This place was like a snapshot in time of the day the Walkers had attacked.

A "Welcome Home To Our Soldiers" banner hung above city hall. Shops that had long ago closed still had their "Yes, We're Open" signs up. Cars were parked in the street, at red lights, at stop signs. It was quite the bizarre sight, really. The town was now devoid of people, but it looked like someone could have been here just yesterday.

Rick didn't know if he would survive the encounter he was about to have with Michael. He knew that he had to try. For the sake of his son and wife, he had to do everything in his power to survive. But he also knew that, for the sake of the entire group, he had to do everything in his power to rescue Daryl as well. He kept telling himself _stick to the plan. _But the plan required him to trust Meagan. It required him to trust Evans.

It required him to trust anyone, really.

And right now, Rick was a little short on trust. His best friend had taken his wife and son, told them he was dead. Had slept with his wife. Rick's own best friend... Had tried to put a bullet in his brain. And that was hard for Rick to accept. How could he? The only people in this world Rick thought he could count on had all betrayed him.

But he wasn't going to give up. To do that would surely mean death. Death for him and his wife who he loved more than anything. Death for his son who he would give his entire world to protect. Death for Hershel, who had given up his farm for Rick to protect his wife and son. Death for Hershel's daughters. For Glenn. For Carol. For T-Dog.

No, Rick didn't trust anyone anymore. But he did love them all. And he knew that if he were to survive. If anyone were to survive. It was those bonds that was most important. That was why he would fight. He would fight for a world where all that was sane and normal could exist again. Where trust could exist again. Where love could exist again.

Rick would fight. And perhaps he would die. But if he did, he would die fighting for a better world for his son and wife and unborn child. And that was all Rick could do. As a father, as a husband. As a man. All Rick could do was his very best to make a lasting impact on this world. Right now, that meant saving Daryl Dixon from a maniac. Right now, that meant negotiating in a town square while Meagan's snipers got into position. Right now, that meant distracting Michael for just long enough for Meagan to take the kill shot. And right now, it meant being ready for whatever would go down after Michael was taken out. This was Rick's reality, his current circumstance. This was where Rick Grimes was right now, and this was where he would make his stand.

He approached on foot. Alone. His firearm was buckled to his side, but he was ready to draw it out at any moment. He stopped when he reached the steps of town hall, where Michael had instructed him to meet. A few moments later, from the opposite direction as that which Rick had come, Michael approached. Rick's eyes examined the man who was responsible for kidnapping his friend. The psychopath who Rick had been sent here to help kill today.

And it took all the energy Rick had not to draw his weapon right now and shoot Michael dead.

"Hello there, Rick," Michael greeted Rick as he approached the town hall steps. "I'm glad you decided to meet with me. You made the right decision."

"Where is my friend?" Rick demanded.

"You really don't remember me, do you, Rick?"

Rick glared at Michael, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

"I'm hurt. I sincerely hoped you would remember who I was... Maybe this will jog your memory," Michael replied. Clearing his throat, Michael spoke in a lighter, scared tone.

_"No, please! I-I-I didn't mean to kill him! I was so scared! I thought he was going to shoot me! I-I-I just... fired my gun! I didn't want to kill anyone!"_

Rick's eyes narrowed... **He remembered.**

"You... **BASTARD!**" Rick shouted.

"I really did enjoy killing him," Michael taunted, a smile on his face. "What was his name? Your old partner? Vance? Victor? V-"

"Van," Rick replied, anger radiating from his voice.

"Oh, that's right!" Michael replied, delighted. "Van! Van was **so** fun! Watching his blood pour out upon my hands! WHAT AN EXILIERATING FEELING! Tell me, Rick. Have you ever done it!? Have you ever killed someone!? Doesn't it feel so... good!?"

Rick couldn't help it. This bastard... Taunting him. Admitting his guilt. Admitting he was the one who had killed Van, a man who had been like a father to Rick. Admitting that it wasn't out of self defense. Admitting that it had been _murder_. Michael was a psychopath. And Rick was going to put him down. Right. Now.

Drawing his weapon, Rick pointed it at Michael and, before the man even had a chance to react, he fired his gun.

**The Woods**

"Very well done, Mr. Dixon," the man in the suit greeted Daryl. "Very well done indeed."

"Who the hell are you, and how do you know my name?" Daryl replied.

"Oh, I know all about you, Mr. Dixon. And as for who I am? Let's just say I'm... A friend. You can call me Evans."

"You come to take me back to Michael?" Daryl asked, "Cause I'm not going. You can put a bullet in my head right now."

"Oh, on the contrary, Mr. Dixon," Evans replied, "I've come to take you somewhere safe... If you will, follow me. Our ride should be here soon."

In the sky above, the distant sound of a helicopter approaching could be heard.

"Ah, there it is now. Tell me, Mr. Dixon. Have you ever rode in a helicopter before?"

**A/N: **OKAY! That's it for Day 3! Many of you may be going, "Wait, what?"

Don't worry. All will be revealed in Day 4. I like skipping around sometimes and using short time-skips and cliff-hangers. Go on and comment and tell me how evil I am for leaving everyone hanging at the end of this chapter. :) Everyone get ready cause Day 4, it's gonna go DOWN man! We'll see the conclusion for Part One: The Hunting Grounds next chapter. Thanks for all your love and support.


	4. Day 4

**A/N:** Okay, so, this chapter is Day 4 but here's a quick recap if anyone needs it. This story takes place in the eight months between Seasons 2 and 3. It will deal with issues such as how the group regains their trust in Rick, how Carl is forced to start growing up, how Carol becomes more independent, etc.

The story is currently in Part 1: The Hunting Grounds, which this is the last chapter of. The characters continued on their trip from Hershel's farm towards Fort Benning and ended up getting run off the road by a group of "Hunters" in the area. A Hunter is someone who uses Walkers to hunt for food and supplies. This group of Hunters is at war with a rival group in the same county led by a psycho named Michael. When Daryl gets kidnapped by Michael's men, Rick and the group are forced to trust strangers in order to get him back.

**PREVIOUSLY **on K2323's **239 Days...**

(Based on **AMC's** The Walking Dead)

**Part I: The Hunting Grounds**

**Day One: **When the group is ran off the road by a "Hunter" – someone who tracks Walkers to find food – they are forced to set up camp off an old country road.

**Day Two: **The group is held at gunpoint by Meagan, one of the local Hunters. They capture her and tie her up to a tree until they can gain more information, but in the process, they are dragged into the middle of a turf war between Meagan's group and another group of Hunters to the north led by a man named Michael... And the cost of getting involved in this war? Daryl is kidnapped.

**Day Three: **Michael's group contacts Rick and arranges a hostage swap – Meagan and two of Michael's people whom Meagan's group is holding hostage. In exchange? Daryl. Meagan introduces Rick to her people, and Rick decides to help Meagan's people fight Michael and free Daryl. Rick's camp joins Meagan's and prepares for war. Michael's men try to kill Rick's group and fail. Rick and Michael meet face-to-face in the nearby town and Michael reveals that he was a killer before the Walker outbreak – and that he and Rick have met before. Daryl escapes captivity with the aid of Evans, a mysterious man who is apart of Meagan's group.

**And now, the conclusion of Part I: The Hunting Ground.**

**Day 4**

**CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

**Ten Years Ago**

**Rick Grimes**

**King County**

The television blared loudly throughout the station, each and every word coming through the speakers like stingers of a bee, ripping through the ears of all those who could hear. The words were painful for no one more so than Rick Grimes as he nervously – solemnly – angrily – sat at his desk, waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

The reporter on the TV was broadcasting live.

"Thank you, Charles. Now, I'm told that here at any moment, the Sheriff Department's Public Relations Officer will be speaking here at the podium behind us. No word yet as to rather or not they will be issuing a public apology on behalf of their Deputy."

The scene on the TV changed, from the steps of the King County Courthouse to a news room where Charles, the news anchor, sat, staring at the camera.

"Alright, we'll get back to that King County courthouse in just a moment where, any moment now, the Sheriff Department is expected to release a statement. Now, for those of you who are just joining us, just to re-iterate, we are awaiting a statement from the King County Sheriff's Department today after hearing the shocking testimony from Michael Seymoure today in court. For those of you who do not know, the case that I am, of course, referring to, is the case of King County vs. Seymoure. Michael Seymoure was charged last October with the murder of Van Da-"

The television cut off. Rick looked up from his melancholy sulk to see that the newest Deputy, Shane Walsh, had cut off the TV.

"Hey, you mind?" another Deputy asked from his desk.

"Have a little respect, asshole," Shane replied, "Rick was Van's partner, the last thing he – or anyone in this office – needs to hear is Van's name being ran into the ground. You got a problem with it and we can settle this outside like men."

There was a grumble of complaint throughout the room but nobody dared to push it further. Everyone knew Shane was right. Van had been a good officer. But it was easier to demonize Van, to remember him as the media was portraying him, then to face the fact that he'd been murdered in cold blood. Easier for most people, anyway. But not for Rick, who knew Van better than anyone else in this building. Not for Rick, who'd looked up at Van like a father figure.

Not for Rick.

The sullen country boy gave Shane, his best friend since high school, an appreciative nod. Shane had only just moved back to King County and joined the Department. Rick was thankful to have his best friend back in town. Especially now of all times. Shane had been very supportive and had tried to help Rick through this tough time. Rick owed Shane everything. He really did. And Shane, all the happy to help, returned Rick's nod like any good friend would do.

"Grimes," an older, gruffer voice spoke up now. "My office."

Rick rose from his chair and silently walked across the room to the office of the Sheriff, an older, larger man who's long hair had long ago turned gray. Entering the office, Rick gently closed the door behind him and sat opposite of the Sheriff, waiting to hear what his boss had to say. And for a long moment, nothing was said, as the Sheriff tried to find the words to say what he had to say.

Finally, he did.

"The DA just called... The jury still has to make the final decision, but it doesn't look good. The defense is painting this as a case of self defense. And with Van's... history with substance abuse, the defense has a pretty good shot."

"Sir, Van was clean for years, and you and I both know it!" Rick protested.

"You're right, Rick! Hell, who do you think you're talking to!? Van and I were partners for years! The man was like a damn brother to me! But none of that means a damn, Rick! We've got to let the legal system take it's course!"

"**To hell with the legal system!**" Rick shouted.

"**THAT LEGAL SYSTEM IS THE REASON YOU'RE SITTING HERE!**" came the response. "**AND AS LONG AS YOU WORK IN THIS OFFICE, YOU WILL RESPECT IT!**"

Silence. Finally, the Sheriff spoke again.

"I understand what you're feeling, Rick. I really do. There's a reason I paired you with Van, you know. Why I had him show you the ropes. It's because I see a lot of myself in you, Rick. I see an honest young man – a good father and a good husband – and a good Deputy. But one thing you're going to learn is that, out there on the job, sometimes we win some... And other times, we lose some. Now, you take all the time you need to recover. Your job will be here when you get back. Go home and spend some time with that new son of yours, take your family on a vacation. Do something to get your mind off what happened. You don't need to be here when the jury makes their decision, Rick. It's just not healthy for you."

"Sir, I don't need a vacation. I need to get back to work."

"Not yet, Deputy. I don't want to see you in my office for at least two weeks. Don't worry. We can hold down the fort without you for awhile. The sky's not going to start falling. Besides, you're going to need your rest. When you get back, I'm pairing you with the rookie. I can see that you two are pretty close friends. It'll be up to you to show him the ropes. Think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," Rick replied, nodding. "Yes, sir. I can handle that."

"Good," the Sheriff replied as Rick stood and started to leave. "Oh, and Rick. One more thing."

Rick smiled. He'd heard the Sheriff's famous catch phrase a million times and recited it along with the Sheriff:  
"If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging."

**Present Day**

**Midnight – Unknown Location**

**Daryl Dixon**

The helicopter had been flown for what seemed like hours before it had finally touched down. Daryl had been left with a lot of questions and not many answers. Sandwiched in between two young men with M16s wearing black vests, Daryl kept his eyes locked in front of him most of the trip. Evans, who was the strange man in the suit, and the pilot sat in the front.

They'd finally landed in an abandoned parking lot in what seemed to Daryl like a complex in the middle of nowhere. Daryl had absolutely no idea where he was, but he felt like he was still a prisoner, oddly enough. Who this Evans guy was and what he wanted, Daryl had no clue, but something told him it wasn't good. But another part of Daryl was amazed. Whoever these guys were, it seemed they had military grade weapons, helicopters...

Daryl knew that he was about to meet some really nice friends or really bad enemies.

It was dark outside and Daryl didn't really know what was going on as the helicopter died. He could hear shuffling feet and not long after he could see the vague outline of a number of armed men outside the helicopter.

"Now, now," he heard the one named Evans tell the men, "Is that any way to treat an old man?"

"Evans," he heard one reply. "We weren't informed that you were coming. _He_ wasn't informed you were coming. You know how he feels about unannounced visitors."

"Oh, I think he'll want to hear from me," Evans replied, "Tell him I have _Daryl Dixon_ with me."

...Okay, now Daryl was worried. It was time to make a plan.

**Meagan's Camp**

The cry of a warrior in the middle of the night awoke the sleeping masses in Meagan's camp. Carl had been having sweet dreams of candy canes and marshmallows when he heard the cries outside the tent he'd taken temporary residence in. Alarmed, he felt for his gun as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see Jacob beside him, already dressed and weapon in hand. Carl quickly followed suit.

The two stepped out into the busy camp site before them. Carl examined the chaos unfolding as people ran from one tent to another, handing out heavy weaponry and supplies. Just what the hell was happening!? Where was his Dad? Carl started to make his way through the crowd, trying to not be in the way, searching for his dad. He could hear Jacob behind him yelling for him to wait up but he did no such thing.

Carl spotted his mother in the distance, outside her tent, along with Carol. He quickly jogged over towards them. Lori, upon seeing Carl, let out a sigh of relief as she placed her arms around her boy. "Oh, thank God," she muttered, relieved that her son was safe.

"Where's dad?" Carl asked, breaking away.

"I'm not sure," Lori replied.

"Did he ever come back last night?" Carol inquired.

Lori spotted Meagan walking by and ran up to her.

"Where's my husband?" she demanded.

"There," Meagan replied, pointing backwards. Lori turned her head to see Rick limping, half-clutching his knee, behind Meagan. Beside him stood Jackson, who was helping Rick walk. A few well-armed men followed behind Jackson as well.

"What happened to you!?" Lori demanded, worried about her husband.

Rick ignored his wife, the woman whom he could barely stand to look at lately. He had more pressing things on his mind. Meagan, Jackson, Rick, and the men who had been with them made their way towards the Command Tent. Lori watched in horror at her husband's subtle reminder of how bad things were between them. She felt her grasp on Carl loosen as he chased after his father.

"Carl, wait!" she commanded, but there was no stopping the boy.

Lori had other things to pay attention to anyway. A few moments passed and the chaos that the camp site had displayed moments ago faded, giving away to the sound of a trumpet echoing throughout the camp site. As the trumpet began to play, everyone stopped what they were doing and started making their way towards the center of camp. Lori glanced at Carol and, the two, exchanging a glance, decided to follow.

Inside the Command Tent, Rick slammed his hands on the table as he nearly collapsed into a chair.

"What the hell was that!?" Rick demanded. "What the hell happened!?"

"Evans should have been there," Meagan replied, worry in her voice, "Did he get taken out?"

"Fat chance," Rick replied, "He had the most secure position in the entire town square. Your man went AWOL -"

"EVANS WOULD NEVER DO THAT!" Meagan replied.

"**I TRUSTED YOU!**" Rick yelled back, "**WITH MY LIFE! **With my son's life! **WITH MY PEOPLE'S LIFE!**"

Rick set his foot on the table in front of him, wincing in pain as he examined his injury. He'd been shot in the leg with some kind of dart which had ripped through his pant legs. Rick ripped a piece of his pant legs off and, taking a deep breath in, pulled the dart out of his leg before using the cloth to apply pressure. It hurt like hell. Why had they shot him _with a dart?_

"Just what the hell did they shoot you with?" Meagan asked, echoing his exact sentient.

"Poison, maybe," Rick replied. "I'll have our doctor check me out."

Rick took a deep breath to collect his thoughts.

"I was out of line before. I don't know what happened to Evans, but even if he did betray you, I know it's not your fault... Hell... My best friend was traveling with us. I trusted him with my life. And he... He betrayed that trust. I had to put him down. I had to watch my son put him down when he came back. These aren't exactly... normal circumstances, after all."

"Rick," Meagan replied, "What did Michael say to you? Why did you break from the plan?"

"He..." Rick closed his eyes. "Michael is... A murderer."

"Tell me something I don't know," she replied.

"No," Rick replied, "He's been a murderer... I was a sheriff's deputy in my old life. A few years ago, my partner, Van... He was walking home after work. It was dark. He saw a woman getting raped on his way home and stopped to help her, but he was... Killed. By the rapist. Michael... Michael was the rapist. He **killed** my partner. We caught his ass, threw him in jail... He somehow intimidated the woman he had raped into keeping her mouth shut. The lawyers made it look like Van had been the one who attacked Michael. He got off easy. Only did two months in jail for a misdemeanor."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Meagan replied, "Evans said that Michael was like a son to him. Don't you think he would have mentioned that Michael was a murderer?"

"I don't think Evans has been telling us the truth," Rick replied.

Meagan sighed, closing her eyes. She turned to Jackson.

"Gather up everyone who last communicated with Evans, everyone who was posted near him. Anyone who may have seen where he went. Find out whatever you can."

Jackson nodded. "You can leave it to me."

Meagan turned to face Rick. "You ready to go give a war speech?"

**Unknown Location**

**Daryl Dixon**

The next thing Daryl knew, he had a blindfold over his face and he was being escorted... Somewhere. He could feel an air conditioner, signaling he was now indoors. Judging by the number of footsteps, he estimated that he was currently surrounded by five other men. Two in front. Two immediately behind him. One further back. They seemed to be in a hallway of some sorts, Daryl guessed. His hands were cuffed and he felt that he probably couldn't do much of anything considering this.

_Damn, Merle, if you were here, you'd kick my ass._

Daryl heard a door in front of him open as he was brought into a room. The room smelt like a hotel room to him, but he didn't know why. That's when he heard a familiar voice.

"Are the cuffs really necessary?" the voice asked. "Uncuff him and leave us."

"But, sir-" he heard one of the men protest. The source of the first voice must have shot the guard some kind of look because that was the end of that. Daryl felt his restraints loosen and his blindfold was taken off... The first thing he noticed, as the other men left, was that he was, indeed, in a hotel room with two beds. The next thing he noticed was the man with the familiar voice.

No fucking way.

"Well, well, well," the man greeted Daryl. "It's been awhile, hasn't it... Daredevil?"

**Meagan's Camp**

The people had gathered in the center of the tent city where a few cinder-blocks served as a sort of pedestal for announcement purposes. Meagan had made her way onto these blocks and was facing the hundred or so people before her, a solemn look on her face. She waited as the mummers in the crowd died down, everyone giving her their attention.

"A lot of you are wondering what is going on," Meagan replied, "I am aware of this... I am sorry to awaken you all at this hour, but the moment of battle approaches quickly and this may be the last chance I get to address you all before it begins. As many of you know, we have taken in strangers who were passing by when they got caught up in our war with Michael and his men. They have lost one of their own, who we believe Michael has likely killed."

A number of gasps could be heard throughout the crowd.

"We attempted to undergo negotiations with Michael just a few hours ago. Unfortunately, a number of troubling events occurred. It would seem that one of our own, Evans, has been lying to us for months now about his connection to Michael. If anyone sees Evans, you are to detain him and bring him to me immediately..."

Meagan paused, examining the crowd further.

"The battle we have ahead will not be an easy one. We will lose friends. Family. And more. Those who are able to fight, please, join us in battle. Let us avenge our lost and ensure our survival. Those who are unable to fight, please be aware that evacuation will begin immediately. You are to gather only the most essential of your belongings and report to Vinny at the tree line in fifteen minutes. God bless you, and may we meet again in a few hours, all safe and sound.

"As for the rest of you... You know the plan. You are ready for this. Everyone is to report to their positions immediately. We will begin in half an hour... Hold tight to each other. We are the only family we have left, my friends. Each and every one of us. We've been through so much... But we will not fall. We will fight to survive. And we will win. Because when we rely on trust, love, and companionship, there is nothing we can not do... **Dismissed!**"

**RAINFALL**

**1:03 AM**

**Meagan's Camp**

**Rick Grimes** clutched his son's shoulder lightly as the two stood alone in the Command Tent. Outside, Rick could hear the frenzy and commotion of the camp as it prepared for war. Rick didn't know what was going to happen today, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that he didn't want his son to be harmed in the upcoming battle. That just wasn't an option.

"I have a job for you," Rick explained.

There was a tinge of disappointment in Carl's voice. "You're not going to let me fight, are you?"

"There's somewhere else you need to be, somewhere more important."

"Dad, no. I want to stand alongside you and the others and help f-"

"Do you love your mom?"

"...What?"

"Do you love your mother?"

Carl frowned. "Dad..."

"Carl."

"Yes," Carl sighed, disappointment in his voice.

"I need you to keep her safe. Take her and Carol and Beth. Go with Vinny and the others to the Evacuation Site. Okay?"

"Dad -"

"No buts," Rick replied, gently handing Carl a case of bullets.

"Dad, I don't understand. If you don't want the four of us to fight, why did you bring us here?"

"That was a mistake," Rick admitted, "We shouldn't have stopped when we got ran off the road. We should have kept on moving on to the next town. But we didn't stop, and Daryl may have paid the price for it. We're involved now, and I've got to do my part to help these people out of the mess that I helped make for them... I've got to fight today, for reasons that I can't begin to explain to you. But you and your mother shouldn't have to suffer because of my mistakes."

"Dad, I-"

"There's something my old boss used to say to me, Carl," Rick continued. "He said, 'If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging.' It's time to stop digging, Carl."

"Dad... Don't die." 

"Got it."

Carl started to leave when Beth rushed into the tent, an alarmed look on her face. Carl stopped, slightly taken aback by the girl in front of him, but quickly realized that she had tears running down her face. He stopped, a genuine look of concern upon his face for the girl who stared at the boy and his father with her tear-filled eyes.

"It's my dad," she managed. "My dad... He's gone."

**Unknown Location**

**Hotel Room**

**Daryl Dixon** could not believe his eyes.

"Daredevil!" a skinny man with long, shoulder-length, shaggy black hair exclaimed.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl muttered as the man wrapped Daryl in a big, bear hug. A smile spread across Daryl's face as he patted the man on the back, relief spreading throughout his body. He was _safe_. Finally, he was safe.

"Carlos, you son of a bitch!" Daryl exclaimed as the latino man released his grasp on Daryl.

"Daryl **the Daredevil** Dixon. You are the **last** person I expected to see today. How long's it been now? What, seven, eight years?"

"At least," Daryl replied. "After the Outbreak began, I heard that all hell broke loose in Afghanistan. I figured..."

"Yeah," Carlos replied gloomily. "It got pretty bad over there. I was on one of the last flights out, before everything collapsed. Barely made it out alive."

A beat, and then a wide smile spread across Carlos's face.

"Hey, do you remember that time when we were kids and your brother broke Mrs. Nichola's window!?"

Daryl broke out in laughter. "How the hell could I forget that!?"

"Her face was so red, I thought she was going to explode!" Carlos roared. "Where is the son of a bitch anyway?"

Daryl frowned. "I don't know. We got separated in Atlanta a few months back. I haven't seen him."

Carlos frowned as well. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Look, Carlos-"

"Actually, the name's Enrique now. I had to change it for... um... Legal reasons."

"Enrique?" Daryl spat, amusement in his voice.

"I don't look like an Enrique?"

"You damn straight look like an Enrique, you Mexican piece of s-"

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm Guatemalan, you racist bastard!"

"Okay, you _Guatemalan_ sorry-ass! Now, can you please tell me _where the hell_ I am?"

"You, my friend," Carlos/Enrique explained, walking over to a curtain that stretched across one wall of the hotel room, "Are in paradise."

Enrique moved the curtain aside to reveal the balcony window of the hotel room. Outside in the distance, Daryl could see an incredibly massive, brick wall the likes of which he had never seen before. Daryl's mouth nearly fell to the floor as he stepped forward to examine his surroundings closer. The wall was about a half mile away from the hotel and took on a massive height – several stories high, at the very least. Between the hotel and the wall were a number of other buildings – houses, offices, and so on.

"Welcome," Enrique stated, "To The Rock."

**Meagan's Camp**

**Hershel** had spent the last few hours doing some investigating. Something, he had feared, was wrong with the camp that had taken them in. He didn't know what it was, but something didn't feel right about them. So, he had determined that he would get to the bottom of this... Whatever _this_ was.

It had started innocently enough. A few hours ago, he had joined George for a late-night walk. George had lit a cigar, certainly a novelty by today's standards, and offered one to Hershel, but Hershel did not accept. The two had taken a walk around the camp and they were enjoying the late night breeze.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Hershel had mentioned, "About the guns. The real story. How did... Excuse me. I'm being rude."

"You're concerned. It's okay. I'd be asking questions if my family had just moved into an extremely well-armed camp of people too."

"Yeah," Hershel replied, "That's about it... So..."

"Hm?" George asked, looking up.

"The guns."

"Oh, right. We found them. Raided a bunch of pawn shops, a few police departments. A lot of our group were army, soldiers from Fort Benning. We instituted an Armory Rule in the camp – all guns go in a Central Armory. It was easier to keep track of things that way."

"You must have raided those stores pretty quickly. Most of the pawn shops we've come across were completely empty."

"Yeah," George replied, "We got lucky, I guess."

"Yeah. And considering how hard it is for anyone in Basic Training to get their hands on anything more than an M4, well, I've got to say, you guys -"

"Hershel," George protested, "If there's something you want to say, say it."

The two stopped, glancing at each other.

"Something just... Something seems really fishy here," Hershel replied.

"You're paranoid," George replied, "We're just like you. We want to survive."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Hershel replied, "Some people will do awful things in the name of survival... Like..."

"Like?"

"Like killing innocent men and stealing their weapons."

"Is this about the Doomsday Prepper thing? I told you, I was kidding! It was a joke! We tell all the newbies that!"

"How do I know I can trust your people?" Hershel asked.

"Look," George replied, "I'm going to tell you something – something only a few people know about me. Before the world went to hell, I was in a dark place. A very dark place. All the self loathing, the hate... I was getting ready to end it all. I was going to do it. I cocked a gun and pointed it at my face... And right as I was getting ready to... you know... I heard a voice. It was Paul. My neighbor. The man your group ran off the road. He was knocking on the door to my house because he was concerned – he wanted to know if I'd heard the news about the Outbreak. Paul saved my life on that day, and because of him, my family and I are alive. If you're worried about you and your daughters, well, don't be. There's no place safer than with us."

There was a moment of silence, and then Hershel spoke. "Good."

He started walking forward, leaving George standing there, blinking curiously.

"There's just one little problem with your story," Hershel called out to George as he kept his eyes on the treeline ahead. "Your wife told me that your family is from Birmingham. She said you guys only met Paul a few months ago."

**Clink.**

Hershel hit the ground and fell unconscious.

**Lori Grimes** held a shrieking Beth close in embrace, shielding her eyes from the horror before them. Hershel's blood-stained shirt laid stretched across the ground in the clearing outside camp. Rick was bent over the shirt, examining it closely. Things didn't look good.

"Take her back to camp," Rick demanded of his wife, who silently obliged, turning the girl away. Rick looked up at Carol and Jackson who had both accompanied him.

"Who was the last person to see Hershel?" Rick demanded.

"He was sleeping in the tent with Maggie and myself," Carol explained, "He sat up around ten o'clock and put on his boots. I asked where he was going and he just said that he needed to go for a walk."

"You didn't follow him?" Rick demanded.

"What the hell do you expect me to do, Rick?" Carol asked. "Stalk the man!?"

"I don't need this right n-"

"No, you know what? I am **sick** of your attitude. You walk around here acting like you're the fucking king of the world, you know that? You **kept** a **huge** secret from **all of us**, you _killed_ one of our own. You have **no right** to judge me!"

_Slap._

Carol was stunned, her hand clutching her face as it burned red with the sting of the slap Rick had just given her. Memories – brutal memories – of Ed came flooding back into her mind.

"**I said it before, and I'll say it again.** If you want to be apart of this group, you're going to have to start taking orders. We **tried it** your way, and it didn't work. **We're not going to be led under a fucking mob rule.** Not anymore! WE'RE NOT LOSING ANYONE ELSE. Now, you can **get your ass back to camp** and evacuate with the rest of the non-combatants, or you canleave, out there, in the woods, alone. It's your choice. **But let me say this.** If you stay, if you **EVER **talk to me that way again, I will **not hesitate** to drop you off miles away from our group and let you fend for yourself. **AM I CLEAR!?**"

Carol did not respond.

"**AM. I. CLEAR!?"**

"Crystal."

Rick could not afford to be Mr. Nice Guy anymore. People were dying, disappearing. He had to start being a leader. He had to live up to the promise he'd made.

And he had to start now.

**BATTLE ON THE BRIDGE**

**2:34 AM**

**Peach Blossom Trail – Near The Bridge**

**T-Dog** had volunteered to help with the evacuation. His job was to join the evacuation group as one of the escorts until they made it safely across The Bridge into the neighboring county. He road shotgun calmly in the seat of a Jeep Wrangler, M16 in his hand pointed at the road in front of him as Vinny drove. Neither were saying much.

The jeep slowed as they turned onto another, more curvy road. He could see a caravan of other vehicles in the side mirror of the jeep – the rest of the group following closely behind. Headlights off, of course, which made it rather difficult to drive in the dead of night. And difficult to see any enemies that might be waiting up ahead.

"You don't talk much, do you, sonny?" Vinny asked as he rounded a curve.

"Not unless there's something to say," T-Dog replied.

That was the end of that conversation.

It was hard for T-Dog to stay awake. He hadn't really gotten much sleep over the last several... months. And right now, with the lights off, it was easy for T-Dog to just... start... dozing... off...

_**SCREEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHHHHH.**_

T-Dog came wide awake and looked over at the alarmed Vinny who flashed his headlights to get a better look at their surroundings. Illuminated in the headlights, they could see the Bridge only a few yards ahead. Salvation. The road to safety. The path out of here.

And it was being guarded by a caravan of military vehicles.

"**Oh, shit!**" T-Dog shouted as Vinny clamored with the stickshift, trying to put the jeep in reverse, all the while making wailing motions at the vehicles behind him to turn around.

"Is that-?" T-Dog asked.

"Michael's men," Vinny confirmed.

And then, there was the sound of a gun firing, just once at first.

_**Pow.**_

And that's how the Battle on the Bridge began.

**City Square**

**Dr. Johnson's Pediatrician Office / Improvised Medical Facility**

**Carol** was a bit surprised with herself. She'd somehow found the courage to volunteer for the coming fight with Michael. Maybe it was a stupid, rash move. Maybe she just wanted to prove Rick wrong. But she knew that it was also the right thing to do. If there was a chance in hell that Daryl was still alive, she wanted to help rescue him.

Of course, she had no actual skills when it came to firearms, so for now, she would help out at the new Command Center. The group had abandoned the camp and taken the City Square, a surprisingly easy task considering how abandoned they'd found it. Carol'd learned a bit about these things from Hershel already. But she was still learning. She wasn't sure how much help she'd really be.

Hershel. She hoped he was okay, she really did. Part of her just wanted to leave here right now and go join the Search Party. But she knew that this was where she was most useful.

Useful.

She was never useful, was she?

A frown spread across her face as she tried not to break into tears.

"Carol," one of the nurses asked Carol as sat alone in the break room, "Can you check out the Patient in Exam Room 3?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure."

Carol wiped her eyes and stood up, ready to get to work.

When she entered Exam Room 3, she saw the one person she did not want to see right now. Rick Grimes sat impatiently on the exam bed, waiting. Carol stood in the doorway, blinking, as Rick studied her. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Are you wearing Scrubs?" he asked, unamused.

"What are you doing here, Rick?" Carol replied, equally unamused.

"Meagan made me come in, said I needed to get checked out before I'm ready to fight."

"Why?"

Rick pointed at his leg.

"I got shot. With a dart. I'm not sure if it's poison or what."

"When did you get shot?" she asked, examining the wound.

"About six hours ago," Rick replied, pulling his pant legs up to give Carol a better view of his ankle.

"Do you feel sick? Sluggish? Anything?"

"No," Rick replied, "Are we done?"

"Well, if it was poison, you'd probably be dead by now."

"Then why the dart in my leg?"

"I don't know," Carol replied, "But I've got to admit, that's really strange."

"I'm leaving," Rick replied, shaking his head and standing up.

"Rick, about earlier. I-"

They were interrupted by the frantic opening of the door. Meagan stood at the doorway, an alarmed look on her face.

"The – group – evacuation – trapped – creek – ambush!"

"Slow down," Rick demanded. "What's going on?"

"The evacuation group!" Meagan shouted, "They're under attack!"

**3:09 AM**

**Near The Bridge**

Glenn and Maggie ran quickly towards the battlefield that was The Bridge, hand in hand. They were not alone. A total of three hundred soldiers were running towards the battlefield, ready to provide reinforcements to the 75 already there helping defend the evacuation group. Well armed and ready to fight, Glenn did not dare let go of Maggie's hand. He knew she was scared – terrified – that her baby sister had been hurt. Glenn was terrified that Maggie was going to get hurt.

"Mags," Glenn whispered to his wife-to-be as he spotted the edge of the treeline up ahead.

"What is it?" she replied.

"I love you."

He squeezed her hand tight as together, the soldiers rushed out of the woods and into the battlefield that was The Bridge.

All hell broke lose. They were on the country road that led to the Bridge. Glenn could spot The Bridge up ahead, down the road a bit, but the fighting had spread back a bit and Glenn and Maggie had run straight into the battlefield. It was dark and chaotic but Glenn could hear shouting all around him, bullets flying, and suddenly he noticed that he was not holding Maggie's hand anymore.

"MAGGIE!" he yelled. "MAG-"

"Get down, son!" he heard Vinny yell from nearby. Glenn ducked just in time as gunfire sprawled over his head. One second later and he would have been dead.

"Thanks!" Glenn yelled out to Vinny, but the old geezer was already gone. Glenn had to move faster. This was war, and he was terrified. But he didn't have time to be terrified. He didn't have time to think. Just to fight. Wait. That was right.

"Don't think. Just fight."

Glenn clutched his gun tightly and started shooting.

**Maggie**, meanwhile, had other things on her mind. She had to find her sister. Running, searching, she tried to find the black van that her sister had been traveling in. From one vehicle to the next, she'd run, duck behind a tire, search. Try not to get shot. She ran from a car to a pickup truck and noticed one of Michael's men dressed in black rounding the corner. She put a bullet in his gut and another in his head before he even noticed her. _Keep moving._

She found the van. Her sister was nowhere in sight.

"BETH!" Maggie yelled.

Another one of Michael's men tried to stab her from behind with a knife, but she saw his reflection in the van's mirror just in time and managed to duck as he crashed into her, his upper-body running into the driver window of the van. Maggie, from her crouched position, quickly sought to defend herself. Punch. Shove. Bite. Shoot. Somehow or another, she took her would-be-assailant out and continued her search.

"BETH!"

She heard a voice.

"M-M-Maggie."

"Beth!?" Maggie shouted, looking around. She saw a figure laying face-down in the green grass on the side of the road and ran to it, panic flooding her body. "BETH!"

It wasn't Beth. Turning the figure over, she recognized the dying girl as Rebecca, George's daughter. A pile of blood surrounded the poor girl.

"Rebecca," Maggie mournfully greeted the dying, younger teenager. "Have you seen my sister?"

"D-down by the creek," Rebecca managed, "Hurry."

Maggie nodded and started to leave, though she did feel a bit guilty about leaving the poor girl there to die. Before she could leave, Rebecca stopped her.

"W-wait."

Maggie bent down to hear the girl's words.

"My dad... abducted... yours."

"What?" Maggie asked, alarmed.

"Your dad's... alive... in... Key Hill V-v-" she began to cough up blood. "Valley."

"I don't understand," Maggie replied, helping to hold Rebecca's head up so she wouldn't choke on her own blood.

"Don't.. trust... anyone."

**Beth** wasn't quite sure how the hell to breathe anymore, but she somehow managed to keep her head above the water as she felt the rush of the creek carry her down stream. Lori was to her left and Carl was to her right. The last hour or so of her life had gone by like a flash of lightning and the sight of Lori screaming for her and Carl to run towards the creek kept replaying in her mind as the sound of gunfire grew more and more distant behind them.

At this point, what was right and what was wrong was anyone's best guess. None of them really knew where the Evacuation Site was, but they couldn't turn around. They couldn't go back into the hell that was the county over. They had to get to safety, whatever that was. They had to stay alive.

Beth noticed Carl swim up a bit ahead of her and Lori, towards the bank of the creek – on the safe side of the Creek. Beth and Lori followed him towards salvation. Towards the safe county. Towards... Survival. They had to stick together now. No matter what. There was no other solution.

"Follow me," Carl commanded. Neither Beth nor Lori rebutted Carl as he led them into the woods.

Survival.

That was what awaited ahead.

**CALM OF THE STORM**

**7 AM**

**Michael's Compound**

**Alex **was taking a walk near the creek. A fresh bruise now painted his face, and it was likely to scar, and he was walking with a limp, but he was walking, none the less. The last twenty-four hours kept replaying in his mind. How had he gotten here? How had things gotten this bad?

Early this morning, Alex had gone to war. He had killed people. Good people. And each and every one of their faces kept replaying in his mind. The hostage, Daryl, whom Alex had set free, was nowhere to be found. Hopefully he'd gotten back to his camp. Hopefully, he would make good on his promise. Hopefully, Rick's group would help Alex free his sister and the other girls.

Alex pondered these things and more as he sat on the sandy creek bank, wading his injured foot in the creek's water. He could hear the sound of gunfire in the distance, but it was dying. The battle that was going on less than a mile away was coming to an end, and any minute, troops would be arriving here, back at base, to regroup and prepare for the next attack. Alex was to be part of that next attack. He could not bear the thought of having to kill any more people.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when, to his alarm, he spotted a figure nearby, rounding the corner, wading through the shallow creek. Immediately, Alex hopped to his feet, drawing his gun and pointing it at the figure, who appeared to be a young woman with brown hair. She seemed to have spotted him as well and immediately drew a pistol and pointed it at Alex. They couldn't have been but a few yards apart from each other, guns pointed at one another.

"Identify yourself!" Alex demanded.

"I don't want any trouble," Maggie replied, examining Alex. Was he one of Michael's men? "I'm looking for my sister. That's all."

"Then put your gun down," Alex demanded.

"You first."

Alex wasn't sure what to do. Was this one of Meagan's people? Or Rick's? He knew that protocol stated that he needed to take her to Michael. He also knew that Michael would kill her without any definite proof that she was an enemy. Alex couldn't allow that. Slowly, he lowered his gun, deciding to give the woman a bit of trust. Slowly, Maggie did the same.

"Have you seen her? My sister?" Maggie asked, "She's a little younger than me. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. She's probably traveling with a brown-haired boy a little younger than her."

"Believe me," Alex replied, "She hasn't come here. If she had, she would have been killed. There's a watch-tower about a half a mile up the creek."

"R-right," Maggie replied, trying hard to stay strong in front of this stranger. Trying hard to fight the tears that she felt welling up in her eyes. She slowly started to back away, eyes locked on Alex as she started to round the bend in the creek and go back the way she'd come.

"Wait," Alex commanded. She stopped. "Are you part of Daryl Dixon's group?"

Maggie's face lit up when she heard Daryl's name but she tried to hide it.

"No," she replied, coldly.

"Did... Did he get away safely?"

Maggie paused. This man couldn't have been part of Michael's group, could he? Was he telling her that Daryl had gotten away? And he wanted to know if he had gotten away safely?

"I-I haven't seen him," she replied.

"Oh," Alex replied, frowning. "If you do, tell him that it's okay. He doesn't have to keep his end of the bargain. I'll figure something out."

Maggie chose her words carefully. "What bargain?"

**City Square**

**Command Post**

People were busy. Shouting. Maps and papers were sprawled over desks and there was a buzzing chatter throughout the room as decisions were being made. Rick and Meagan stood in the center of the chaos, trying to orchestrate their forces to bring Michael to his knees. So far, things were not looking as good as they had a few hours ago.

"Our last troops are pulling back now," Rick noted, "We lost about twenty men. I think we can mark this battle a loss," he decided, placing a red tack on the map in front of him.

"But The Bridge is still ours," Meagan replied, "We should be able to send units around the Mulberry Farm towards the bridge and have them surround the farm."

"We don't know how many units they have posted there," Rick replied, "They could be calling for reinforcements right now. For all we know, that's their main strike team."

"But we do have the element of surprise," Meagan pointed out. "It's an ambush, after all."

"Ambush," Rick repeated the word carefully, "It's risky, but it could work."

One of Meagan's men approached them.

"Sir, ma'am," he greeted them, "The first of our units from Mulberry Farm are reporting in. They have something they want you to see on one of their trucks. They wouldn't specify."

Rick looked over to Meagan suspiciously, then back at the man. "Are we sure it's our men?"

"Yes, sir," the man replied, "I know these men well. They are our own."

"Let's go, then," Meagan decided. "Let's see what the cat dragged in."

**The Rock**

**Freedom Park**

Freedom Park was... Refreshing. It may have been little other than a few drinking fountains, a running path, and some benches, but it was nice not to see a walker anywhere nearby. It was nice to see people jogging down the trail. It was nice to sit on a park bench and feel the sunshine beating down. It was nice to be free.

"After the war, we all came here," Enrique explained. "The Rock had previously been nothing more than a training ground for White Chaos, b-"

"The mercenary group that you were a part of," Daryl noted.

"Right. We all knew this area. Someone sent out the message, before communication went down. Come here so we can survive. Together. It's taken us all this time, but things here are finally getting back to normal."

"Yeah, well. It helps that you have the Great Wall of Georgia in your own back yard. There's no way that you guys could have built this thing so quickly. How did you...? I mean, how...?"

"You've probably got a lot of questions," Enrique replied, "That's natural."

"So, what?" Daryl replied, "You just stay here, protected by your walls, and try to ignore all the suffering outside? The other survivors?"

Enrique raised an eyebrow. "No, muchacho. You've got us all wrong. Come on. There's something you need to see."

**The Bridge**

Glenn was going out of his mind.

He could not find the love of his life anywhere. She wasn't among the dead, and that was good, but if she wasn't here, where was she?

This was all he could think about, and it was driving him crazy.

He tossed another body into another grave and tried to recount the events of last night in his head.

"_FUCKING HELL!" someone near Glenn had yelled as they threw a grenade into the enemy formation._

_The battlefield was chaotic._

"_That was fucking crazy!" Glenn shouted._

"_I know, right!?" the man who'd thrown the grenade responded, a smile on his face._

_They shared a quick laugh, but it didn't last long. A Walker rounded the corner of a car before Glenn could blink, and it took a huge bite into the man Glenn had just talked to. Glenn backed up in fear, unleashing a parade of bullets into the walker. He looked around the battlefield. All over. They were all over. Dead bodies were coming back on the battlefield as walkers, and the battle was still going on._

Glenn shuddered, remembering the chaos. Trying to distinguish between friend, human foe, and Walker... It wasn't easy. Glenn wasn't sure if all the people he'd killed last night had been enemies, and he was afraid to think about that. Worse, he was afraid that he would never see Maggie again. He... He was just. Afraid.

He grunted as he threw another body into the next grave, but he was alarmed to hear shouting from The Bridge nearby. He stopped what he was doing and took off through the woods towards The Bridge. Was it Maggie!? Was she okay!? Was it the enemy!? Was the enemy back!? What the hell was going on!?

He did not stop till he reached the bridge, where he struggled to catch his breath, examining the scene before him. Some of his comrades were on the bridge, guns pointed at the water below. Glenn rushed over to them and peered over the bridge to see what awaited below...

And he was completely relieved to see his girlfriend, grabbing hold of a rock to keep her body from floating down stream, another man along with her.

"MAGS!" he yelled in relief.

Maggie silently looked up at Glenn, who noticed that the men beside him were not lowering their guns.

"What are you doing!?" he shouted at them, "This is my girlfriend! She's with us!"

"That man," one of them replied, "Is one of Michael's."

Alex looked up at the men solemnly.

"I surrender," he announced. "I need to speak to Rick Grimes."

**City Square**

Rick Grimes waited patiently. One of the soldiers was fumbling with his keys, attempting to unlock the trailer of the eighteen wheeler truck. Rick had no idea what awaited him inside. Was it Daryl? Michael? What was it that these men had found? What was it that was so fucking important that they made him come out here to see it?

"Mr. Grimes," the soldier announced as he unlocked the door of the trailer and prepared to open it, "Are you ready to win this war once and for all?"

And that's when everything changed...

**The Rock**

"My... God," Daryl muttered.

_When everything turns to black, you don't know where to go._

"Now you understand," Enrique replied proudly, placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Now you know our secret."

"How the hell did this happen?" Daryl asked.

"We were smart."

_You need something to justify your soul._

Daryl gripped the rail on the pathway that lined The Wall tightly. His eyes peered down into the massive pit some twenty feet below, on the outside of The Wall, where he could see Walkers crawling around like ants. Unable to escape the pit that they were being held in. Unable to do... Much of anything.

"You haven't even seen the best part," Enrique noted. He held up a radio to his mouth and said three words. "Light them up."

_And you sing la, la, la, la. La, la, la, la. La, la, la, la._

That's when fire erupted up from the bottom of the pit, burning the Walkers to a crisp. Daryl stumbled backwards in surprise when the fire lit, all around the pit, for what seemed like miles. How had the group managed to create such a system!? How did they have the resources to do this!? It made absolutely no sense!

Enrique erupted in laughter at Daryl's response.

"You haven't seen nothin' yet, my friend. This is just the start," Enrique revealed.

But one thing worried Daryl – one nagging question that he was too afraid to ask:

The start of what?

**ROAR OF THE STORM**

**2:00 P.M.**

**City Square**

Everything had changed in the last five hours.

The face of war was ugly, and now, it was real. Too real.

A massive army had been assembled. They were armed and they were ready. And they stood in the City Square, in formation, waiting. Watching. Things were happening far too fast. And it wasn't going to stop until one side was defeated. That was what war was. Ruthless, unrelenting chaos. And it was time to end this particular war. It was time... For the final battle.

Rick Grimes stood before this massive formation, his eyes scanning the crowd, memorizing the faces. How was he supposed to give a speech? How was he supposed to motivate these people? What was he going to say? That he hoped they didn't die? That they needed to give it their all?

He was surprised when he spoke. He didn't know where the words were coming from. It was like someone else was speaking for him, using his body. He could feel himself speaking but it was like he wasn't in his own body right now.

"Today, you will fight!" he yelled, "And today, many of you... Will die!"

Chaos was unfolding.

"_**I DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL HIM!"**_

Rick clenched his fist.

"**TODAY, YOU WILL FIGHT!**" he yelled again. "**BUT WE MUST ASK OURSELVES... ONE QUESTION! ONE QUESTION THAT MANY OF YOU... HAVE NOT ASKED YOURSELVES!"**

Many in the crowd found their faces now painted with a confused look.

"**The answer is clear,**" Rick replied, "**But the question... Is not always as clear. I can not answer it for you. But I can ask it of you...**"

Rick paused, images of Carl and Lori and his ex-partner going through his mind.

"**ASK YOURSELVES... WHY ARE YOU FIGHTING!? IS IT FOR SOMEONE YOU LOVE!? FOR YOUR SURVIVAL!?**"

Rick knew what he was fighting for.

"**LET THAT DRIVE YOU! ****ALWAYS**** KNOW WHY YOU ARE FIGHTING! ****ALWAYS**** KNOW WHAT YOUR PURPOSE IS! WHY YOU EXIST!**"

Somewhere in the crowd, Glenn gently squeezed Maggie's hand.

"**BECAUSE WITHOUT A PURPOSE, WE ARE NOTHING! WITHOUT SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR, WE HAVE NOTHING! WITHOUT SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR, WE'RE JUST LIKE THE WALKERS! ARE YOU GOING TO ALLOW YOURSELVES TO WASTE AWAY WITH NOTHING TO FIGHT FOR!? ****OR ARE YOU GOING TO FIGHT!? BECAUSE THAT, MY FRIENDS, IS THE ONLY WAY YOU WILL LIVE!"**

There were a few mummers in the crowd.

"**I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU!**"

"FIGHT!" the crowd responded in union.

"**WHAT WAS THAT!?"**

"**FIGHT!"**

The crowd went crazy.

**2 P.M.**

**The Bridge**

The Bridge was mostly empty now. Rick was one of the only people here, sweating profusely as he tried to crank the motor on the small boat that they'd loaded into the creek. Voices were constantly speaking on the walky talky, sending in reports from the battlefield.

"Main Attack Force is advancing. The enemy's been pushed back to the treeline of Two Hill's Forest," one voice reported.

"Secondary Attack Unit is preparing to execute the flanking maneuver."

"Roger that."

The sound of the voices was drowned out by the hum of the motor as it came to life. Rick took his seat in the boat and began to propel it upstream, one hand on the steering lever and the other on a cardboard box sitting in the boat next to him.

**Two Hill's Forest**

"DIE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING SCUM!" Jackson shouted as he and his comrades charged through the forest, chasing the retreating forces. Jackson unleashed a hailstorm of bullets at the enemy. Everything was going just as planned. He heard T-Dog unleash a roar nearby as the man threw a grenade at the enemy forces.

But Jackson's cheering was cut short when a bullet pierced through his chest.

T-Dog stopped, dropping down beside Jackson as the rest of the group continued their advancement. T-Dog didn't know what to say.

"Oh, man!" T-Dog shouted, examining the wound, taking off his shirt and trying to put pressure on the wound.

"S-stop," Jackson protested.

T-Dog stared at the man sadly. They both knew what was about to happen.

"Do it," was all Jackson said.

T-Dog frowned, nodding.

**Pow.**

**Big Hill**

**Near the Reserve Force Camp**

The retreating forces of Michael could not see what awaited them on the other side of Big Hill, the hill that sat at the end of the forest. They had no idea that on the other side of the hill that they were now scrambling to climb, a reserve force was waiting, ready to unleash their bullets on the small army. Many of Michael's men fell trying to climb Big Hill, killed by the storm of bullets coming from the edge of the forest behind them.

Others managed to make it to the top of the hill just in time to see the reserve forces waiting on them below.

And that would be the last thing most of them saw before the charges of C4 placed on top of the hill exploded. Those who were lucky enough to survive wouldn't for much longer.

The ambush had been successful.

**PEAK.**

**The Creek**

**Near Michael's Compound**

Rick could see the turn of the creek ahead. Just around that corner. There, he realized, was victory. There, he would finally end this. As he approached, he knew that on land, nearby, Meagan was leading a small force by land in an attempt to take the compound from the south side. It was actually nothing more than a distraction. While the forces fought just south of the compound, Rick would be able to enter the compound relatively undetected, find Daryl, reunite with Meagan's group, and find and execute Michael.

That was the plan, anyway.

But plans change.

Rick rounded the corner...

And he could not have been more unprepared for what awaited him there. On the banks of the creek, waiting for him, was none other than a well-armed Michael... Who held an RPG in his hands.

And he fired.

**Fire erupted** all around Rick as he made the jump towards the creek, hoping to submerge himself in water and somehow avoid death.

Somehow, he did.

There was a moment of serene peace for Rick. Maybe it was the near-death experience. Maybe it was the fact that he was submerged by water. Either way, he knew that in the next few seconds, all of this was going to end. Either he or Michael would be walking away in the next few moments. One would be alive. The other would be dead.

It was all about to end. Right here.

Gripping the gun he'd stuffed in his back-pocket, Rick knew that he probably only had one chance to fire. One shot, and the gun would probably jam after that. It wasn't good to submerge these things in water. And this couldn't have happened at a worse time. One shot to determine victory. One shot to determine rather or not Rick would survive.

What does a man think about in the moments that could be his last?

He thought about Carl.

He thought about Lori.

He thought about Shane. And Sophia. And Dale. And all the people they'd lost.

And then, he thought about Van. Van, the man who had been like a father to Rick. Van, the man who Michael had taken from Rick far too soon. Van, the man who Rick was fighting for. Van, the man who had helped turn Rick into the man he was today. He thought of Van.

And then, he remembered what his old boss used to tell him.

"_If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging."_

Rick came up to the surface.

"Merry Christmas."

_**POW.**_

…

…

…

As blood stained his camouflage shirt, Michael slumped backwards, his body half-submerged in the water of the creek. HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED!? Michael had planned it out so fucking well. The tracking device, usually used for hunting, that had been planted in Rick's leg! The battle at Mulberry Farm! This wasn't supposed to happen. **THIS WASN'T **supposed to happen!

Rick glared into the eyes of the killer before him, fallen at last.

"That," Rick revealed, "Was for Daryl."

That was the last thing Michael heard before slipping into the darkness of death. Rick just stared at the dead body, shaking his head.

"And this one is for Van."

**Pow.**

**THE RAINBOW**

**2:32 P.M.**

**Michael's Complex**

But there was a problem.

Daryl was not in Michael's Complex. In fact, there was nobody in Michael's Complex.

Everyone was gone.

Confused, Rick emerged from the complex, shaking his head.

Where... was everyone?

Then, Rick heard shouting. The dirt road that spread out from the warehouse that was The Complex was deserted, except for one figure who was running down it, towards Rick, yelling his name. Rick recognized the man running as one of Meagan's men, a man named Arnold.

"Mr. Grimes! Mr. Grimes!" the voice yelled as Rick took off in a sprint towards Arnold, alarmed.

Reaching Arnold's side, Rick stopped to catch his breath, ready to figure out what the hell was going on.

"What is it, Arnold!?" Rick demanded, "What happened?"

"It's Alex!" he replied, urgency in his voice, "He shot Megan!"

**Command Center**

**Medical Facilities**

"I NEED SOME GAUSE, ALCOHOL, AND A SCAPEL, STAT!" the head doctor demanded as Meagan was pushed down a gurney towards Exam Room #1. Carol split away from the group quickly to retrieve the demanded supplies. Rick followed the group of medical professionals nervously, somewhat in a daze. The war was over, and Michael was dead...

So why did it feel like they'd lost?

Rick tried to follow them into Exam Room #1, but the door was promptly shut in his face as someone yelled for him to remain outside.

Slumping into a seat outside the room, Rick tried to process everything. From what he'd learned so far, Alex, who had been part of Meagan's group, had shot Meagan and taken off through the woods, and now he and whoever else had been in Michael's Compound had made their escape into the county over. The few men that had been left at The Bridge were dead. And to make matters worse, the Command Center had lost all contact with the refugees at the Evacuation Site.

Rick needed to get up. He needed to look for his son. He had to find them. His son. His wife. Beth. Everything was falling apart. Rick had made the wrong calls. He knew it to be true. Half the group was probably dead now. How could he have been so stupid!? HOW COULD HE HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING STUPID!?

Rick needed to be a leader.

But he needed to be one three days ago.

**5 P.M.**

The doctor and his nurses emerged at last. Rick looked up from his chair, anxious to know the fate of Meagan. Anxious to know what had happened.

"She'll live," the doctor revealed, after what felt like hours. "She was lucky. Very lucky. One inch to the right, and she would have died hours ago. She wants to speak to you, but make it quick. She needs her rest."

Rick let out a sigh of relief.

She was alive.

Rising, he thanked the doctor and walked into Exam Room #1. Her blood-soaked clothes were discarded in the waste-bin and she lied in the bed in her underwear, dirt all over her body and a bandage across her stomach. Rick approached the woman.

"Hey," she smiled at him, her voice weak, "We got him."

She lifted her hand, and Rick grabbed it reassuringly. "We got him."

The two shared a moment of victory, silently relieved that the man who'd haunted both of their lives was dead at last.

And then, to the surprise of both Rick Grimes and Meagan, Rick began... to cry.

Tears flooded his face, and the grown man wiped them away, tried to hide his fragile state.

"Hey," she complained, "What's wrong?"

"I failed them," Rick complained, "I failed them all."

"Did you? Did you really?" Meagan replied. "Michael's dead, and you're alive. Some of you, anyway."

"My son and wife," Carl replied, "I think Alex has them."

"Then here's what you do, soldier. Wipe those tears off your face and get out there and find them. And when you do, you bring Alex to me. Are we clear?" Meagan replied.

Rick nodded, wiping the tears off his face.

She was right.

She was absolutely right.

Rick had to reunite the group. He had to fight, he couldn't give up. He had to put things back together now. It was his duty.

"Crystal."

**8 P.M.**

**The Edge Of The City**

Rick was sitting on the hood of the Hyundai, waiting patiently on the county road that had gotten the group into all this mess, staring into the city that had almost swallowed him whole. He was alone, a gun in his lap to defend him from Walkers. Patience littered his eyes. Anger filled his heart. Michael was dead, but the group had a new enemy now.

Alex had to be destroyed.

The group had to be put together.

This was the only way things could move forward. If Rick failed in this mission, then Shane was right. If Rick failed now, then Shane was absolutely fucking right. Rick had to prove that he could be a good leader. Rick had to keep the group together. Rick had to keep them **alive.**

Headlights echoed into the darkness, and Rick raised his hand to shield the light as the Chevvy pulled up. The light faded as T-Dog, Carol, Rick, and Glenn stepped out of the vehicle and approached Rick. This was it. These five were the only ones left. Daryl, Hershel, Lori, Carl, and Beth were all probably dead. But Rick would not rest until he knew for sure. And if there was a chance in hell at reuniting the group, then he would.

"Rick," Maggie began, "There's something I need to tell you."

"Go ahead," Rick replied, "What are you waiting for!? I know it's all any of you have to say right now. 'I told you so,' right?"

"Excuse _me?_" Carol asked.

"**GO AHEAD! **SAY IT! I FAILED THE GROUP! **I DIVIDED US! YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!? **My **SON** is probably dead! MY WIFE IS PROBABLY DEAD! **HERSHEL IS PROBABLY DEAD! THEY'RE ALL DEAD!**"

"Look here, Rick Fucking Grimes," Carol replied, "You said you were going to lead us, so lead us. Shut the fuck up and lead us. You are in charge. This isn't a democracy anymore. You don't get to feel sorry for yourself. You told me to shut up or to leave and try to survive by myself. Well, I've made my choice. Now, you've got to fucking lead us."

"How can you expect me to lead you if I can't even keep my own son safe?" Rick replied.

"Rick," Maggie protested, "Carl's alive. He and Beth and Lori escaped through the creek. They're alive. They never made it to the refugee camp. I don't know where they are... But they're alive."

"What?" Rick replied, looking up, a smile starting to spread across his face. The rest of the group also started to smile.

Maggie laughed, joy returning to her face as well. "They're alive, Rick! They're probably in the county over, waiting for us to find them! And my dad, too! That girl... Rebecca. I found her, on the battlefield, right before she died. She told me that her dad took my dad to some place called... Key Hill Valley."

"That's a mental institution, not too far from here!" Rick exclaimed, "I had to escort patients there occasionally... Why would he take Hershel there?"

"I don't know... But my dad's alive. They're all alive!"

"Everyone but Daryl," Carol noted.

"Him too!"

Everyone glared at Maggie.

"Alex told us, didn't he!? That he helped Daryl escape!"

"Yeah, but that doesn't make any sense," T-Dog replied.

"He's right," Carol agreed, "Why help your enemy escape?"

"And why hasn't Daryl contacted us yet?" Rick asked.

"I don't know, maybe he-"

Glenn interrupted the conversation. "Shh.. Listen."

The group fell silent... But their silence was quickly replaced by the sound of...

"Is that a helicopter?" Rick asked, astonished.

The group stood there, baffled, as the helicopter approached them. As it got closer, a spotlight lit up the county road, locking on the group of survivors as it approached them. Instinctively, they began to get ready for a firefight. But then, they all sort of knew that anyone who was fortunate enough to be driving a helicopter right now was probably more than equipped to take them all out.

And then, the helicopter... Almost landed. Almost. It lowered itself to the ground just enough for one man to jump out of it. Only feet away from them.

"What... the hell?" Maggie echoed their thoughts.

A man in a flight suit approached them. He appeared unarmed, and Rick pointed his gun at the man.

"Don't come any closer!" Rick demanded.

"Woah, woah, woah!" the man shouted over the roar of the helicopter, his hands now raised. "Easy there, tiger! I'm looking for a Mr. Rick Grimes! Would any of you happen to know that man!? I was told I could find him here!"

A wave of confusion hit Rick.

Something told him to lie.

"Rick Grimes is dead!" Rick replied, "Who's looking for him?"

"Well, that's too bad!" the man in the flight suit replied, "I was supposed to tell him that his friend Daryl's still alive!"

Rick went from confused to alarmed, and he shouted angrily now. "Where the fuck is he!?"

The man in the flight suit chuckled. "Rick Grimes, I take it!?"

"**STOP FUCKING WITH ME! WHERE IS HE!?**"

"I was told to give you this message, word for word...

'Listen closely, Rick. Your friend Daryl's alive, and he's safe and sound. If you want to see him again, you will find him at The Rock. You are to leave my men unharmed. If they have so much as a scratch on them, I will not hesitate to kill Mr. Dixon. I'll be waiting patiently for you, Rick. I've got a special job for you.'

"I was also told to hand you this."

The man in the flight suit approached Rick, holding out a map. Rick grabbed the map, and the man's arm, and leaned in closely to his ear.

"You tell me where he is right now."

"You heard the message, Rick," the man whispered in Rick's ear, "You better let go of me right now or Daryl's as good as dead. You know where he is. Come to The Rock. We'll be waiting for you there."

Rick let go of the man grudgingly. The man in the flight suit grinned, turning and starting to walk back towards the helicopter. But then, he paused, and looked back over at Rick.

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot! I was told to tell you one more thing! Boss's orders! _He_ said you would know what it meant!"

Rick glared at the man curiously.

"He said to tell you, 'If you ever find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging!'"

Before Rick could react, the man was back onboard the helicopter, and it was ascending into the air. Rick just stared there, dumbfounded, as the helicopter began to fly away. He could feel the stares of the others on his back behind him. But only one thing was on his mind now. Daryl was alive. He was being held prisoner. Someone wanted Rick to complete some sort of job. And...

...The Sheriff was alive.

**PART I: THE HUNTING GROUNDS...**

**COMPLETE.**

**NEXT CHAPTER** on K2323's **239 Days..**

**PART II: THE ROCK.**

"_Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man." - Homer, The Odyssey_


	5. Character Guide - End of Part I

******Characters We've Met So Far**

**Rick's Camp**

A camp of survivors led by ex-Deputy Rick Grimes from King County, somewhere north of Atlanta. The group is currently heading towards Fort Benning – or possibly Florida – in search of more survivors and supplies. The group is somewhat broken and distrustful of their leader, Rick, who has recently exerted control over the formerly democratic group, but they are learning that in order to survive, they need to trust Rick and let him be their leader. The group has been separated recently due to the War of the Hunters between Meagan's group and Michael's group.

Rick Grimes – An ex-cop country boy turned stone hard zombie killer. After having killed his best friend, with whom his wife was sleeping, he has grown cold. Now distant with his wife, his son, and everyone, he is trying to do whatever it takes to survive – and to ensure that his now pregnant wife and son survive as well. At the end of Part I, Rick Grimes learns that Daryl Dixon is being held captive by someone from Rick's past. He resolves that it is his duty to put the group back together and decides to travel to The Rock, Georgia so he can do just that.

Daryl Dixon – Redneck meets crossbow. A wild, motorcycle-driving, slightly racist charmer from Georgia, Daryl is adept at hunting and provides the group with a vast majority of its food source, as well as a majority of the group's badassery. Drives a cool motorcycle, has a sweet, softer side, and is searching for his brother, Merle. Quickly becoming Rick's right-hand-man and a staple of the group. He is best at long-range combat and uses a crossbow to do most of his killing.

As of the end of Part I, Daryl is living comfortably within the walls of The Rock. He does not know that he is being used as bait to lure Rick Grimes to The Rock.

Hershel Green – A strong Christian who's not afraid to shoot a gun. Hershel is the older, and naturally wiser member of the group. Currently growing a beard. Vet-turned-doctor, Hershel has been married twice, and is the proud father of two teenage daughters who he would die to protect. Whereas others in the group are not the most trusting of Rick's new leadership position (Ricktatorship), Hershel trusts Rick completely and encourages others to do the same.

As of the end of Part I, Hershel is being held prisoner by George in Key Hill Valley Mental Institution.

Lori Grimes – Lori is Rick's wife, and Carl's mother. Following the Walker outbreak, she was separated from her husband, and she and her son relied on Rick's best friend, Shane, for survival. Lori was in an affair with Shane, and his death at the hands of Rick (and Carl, who leant a hand) has somewhat devastated her. She has grown distant from her husband but is working on patching things up – after all. She's pregnant now, but nobody quite knows who the father is. While she's not much of a fighter, especially given that she's pregnant, she is good at doing domestic work – cleaning and cooking around the camp.

As of the end of Part I, Lori is traveling with her son and Beth Greene, looking for refuge, having been separated from the rest of their group.

Theodore (AKA T-Dog) – The coolest black dude in the group. Wait. Make that the only black dude in the group. Fairly quiet, T-Dog prefers to listen and not to speak. But don't let that fool you. On the inside, he's a mean, keen killing machine who can take out walkers like nobody's business. T-Dog may not always agree with Rick, but feels he owes Rick his life after Rick saved him from Daryl's crazy, racist brother, Merle, back in Atlanta. He is best at close combat.

As of the end of Part I, T-Dog is traveling with Rick to The Rock to rescue Daryl.

Carol – Well… She's Carol. Sometimes mistaken for a lesbian due to her short hair cut, Carol is a middle-aged woman who has lost her daughter, as well as her abusive husband, since the start of the zombie apocalypse. Because she's lost so much, she has the hardest time trusting Rick out of anyone in the group. However; she knows she would not fair any better alone, so she tries to put her differences with Rick aside for the betterment of the group. A conservative and a very strong Christian, she sometimes has a harder time accepting the new blood-soaked world around her. She tries to focus her energy into helping others, and is learning anything she can from Hershel about medical affairs.

As of the end of Part I, Carol is traveling with Rick to The Rock to rescue Daryl.

Glenn – A young asian man, and formerly a pizza-delivery-boy. He was in Atlanta during the beginning of the outbreak, and ended up with the rest of Rick's group. His primary skill is speed and stealth – he can get in quickly, get whatever is needed, and get out. His girlfriend is Maggie, Hershel's eldest daughter.

Maggie Green – Hershel's elder daughter. A young twenty-something, she is a badass gunslinger who works best with a shotgun. While she's only been shooting a few months, she's gotten the hang of it fairly quickly, and she's a real cowgirl at heart. Wild with a passionate side, you'd be wise not to piss her off.

Beth Green – A sixteen year old, blonde haired cutie, Beth is one of the youngest of the group. She is quite shy, recovering from depression, and is not adapt at weaponry. In many ways, she's the polar opposite of her half-sister, Maggie. Still, she does her best to be helpful, and enjoys spending time with her older sister, Glenn, and Carl.

As of the end of Part I, Beth is traveling with Lori and Carl, looking for refuge.

Carl Grimes – The youngest of the group, Carl is only thirteen years old, but in many ways, he's a spitting image of his father. That's not to say he doesn't get anything from his mother, either, though – Carl may be a fighter and a leader-in-training at heart, but he's also a lover who will do whatever it takes to protect those around him. All this while dealing with puberty during the zombie apocalypse – it must be hard, but hey, what's a kid going to do?

As of the end of Part I, Carl is traveling with his mom and Beth, looking for refuge.

The Rock Characters

Not much is known about The Rock. It seems to be a city protected from the outbreak by massive walls. Daryl is being kept here as bait to lure Rick Grimes into the city.

Enrique – A childhood friend of Daryl's, he formerly went by the name of Carlos. He is Guatemalan. He was serving in Afghanistan when the Outbreak began and barely made it out alive. He seems to be in a position of great power in The Rock.

The Sheriff – Rick Grimes' former employer. Not much is known about him, but he seems to be in a position of great power in The Rock. He was fond of the quote, "If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging."

**Evans – A strange man with unknown allegiances, formerly part of Meagan's group. He claimed to have served overseas with Michael in a war before the Outbreak and he may have been a double-agent planted by Michael in Meagan's group. He also seems to be part of the command structure at The Rock.**

Alex's Camp

A specialized class of warriors known as _hunters _– they use the scent of Walkers to attract other Walkers which they capture and track, hoping those walkers lead them to supplies or even food. Led by an ambitious man named Alex, the group's current location is unknown.

Alex – Alex probably grew up in Georgia, and speaks with a thick, southern accent. He has scars across his face, of unknown origin. He has a soft spot in his heart, which can sometimes get him into trouble. He was part of the crew that kidnapped Daryl during Part I: The Hunting Grounds. He has since united the remnants of Michael's camp and Meagan's camp and is leading them into places unknown.

Dani – A liberated sex prisoner from Michael's camp, Dani was one of a number of girls being held captive as a weapon because she had herpes. Michael used her to spread the sexual disease to his enemies. Before the outbreak, Dani was an aspiring actress, studying theater at a local college. She is presumed to have been freed by Alex along with the other girls and her current location is unknown.

Alex's Sister – Like Dani, Alex's Sister was one of Michael's sex prisoners. She is presumed to have been freed by Alex at the end of Day 4. Her current location is unknown.

Vinny – An elderly man who was part of Meagan's camp. Led the evacuation effort during Day 4.

Lucille – Vinny's daughter-in-law, a middle-aged woman. She is somewhat secretive, much like her husband. Not much is known about her.

Jacob – George and Lucille's son. He is about Carl's age. Not much else is known about him.

**Meagan's Camp**

A camp of hunters which moved into the county which Michael's hunting grounds are located on just a few months ago. Formerly led by Paul, they took up a part of the county that Michael's men did not usually hunt in, but Michael still launched an attack, killing two of the camp's men. Most of Meagan's camp are missing and are presumed to be with Alex's camp. Those who remain under the leadership of Meagan are the most fit and battle-ready of the group. Their future is uncertain, but when we last saw them at the end of Part I: The Hunting Grounds, they had occupied the city near their camp grounds and had free reign over the entire county.

Hershel remarked that there was something strange about this group, such as their large stockpile of weapons.

Meagan – A sexy bombshell of a woman, compared by Carl to cat-woman. She was dating Paul, the leader of the group, and seems to be very capable – enough so that she isn't afraid to go camping without a partner, for a week, alone in the woods. Somewhat sarcastic and spunky, Meagan cares about those around her – she has a hard time letting people in, but when she does, she will value those people. She was severely wounded in the war against Michael, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Paul – Drove an Acura. Was the leader of the camp, and brought them to the county that Michael's hunting grounds are located in so that they might find a more rich source of food. Apparently did drugs, as evidenced by the white powder found in his car. Dated Meagan. **Was killed when trying to run Rick's group off the road in order to raid them for supplies.**

Jackson – A quiet man, Jackson was very strong and had the body and mind of a warrior. **Died in Day 4 during the Battle Of Two Hills Forest.**

George – A secretive middle-aged man who has kidnapped Hershel and is detaining him at a mental facility.

Rebecca – George and Lucille's teenage daughter. She is about Beth's age. Not much else is known about her. **Died in the Battle On The Bridge.**

**Other Characters**

Michael – The leader of a hunting group, Michael will do anything to survive, no matter who he has to kill to do it. A natural leader, Michael served overseas in Afghanistan at some point, alongside Evans. He was acquitted of murder and rape charges about ten years ago in King County after he killed Rick Grimes' former partner, Van.

**Died at the end of Day 4.**

Samuel – Michael's right-hand-man. Samuel seems to be the more aggressive of the two, quick to express anger, whereas Michael is calmer.

As of the end of Part I, Samuel is missing in action...

Keyers – Keyers seems to be some sort of commander in Michael's group, with Alex being one of his "officers". Keyers is believed to have had military background, and is not afraid to get his hands dirty to take care of a job. He was part of the crew that kidnapped Daryl.

**Died in Day 3.**


End file.
